A Love Most Ardent or A Sensible Marriage
by eagraves9
Summary: Miss Elizabeth Bennet will not marry where there is no respect between partners. In a world where Miss Elizabeth Bennet's intimate friend is a Mr. Charles Lucas, true feeling are clouded - Does one find love by wading into the sensible, or falling into the ardent. WIP.
1. Chapter 1

I've read Pride and Prejudice more times than I can count. Jane Austen created such compelling, beloved characters. I've read and enjoyed many fan fictions and always wanted to add to the community. This is my first attempt to do so. I look forward to constructive criticism and your thoughts on this "what-if" premise. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

 _Pride & Prejudice - Chapter 5:_

Within a short walk of Longbourn lived a family with whom the Bennets were particularly intimate... They had several children. The eldest of them, a sensible, intelligent young _man_ , about twenty-seven, was Elizabeth's intimate friend, _a Mr. Charles Lucas._ That the Lucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to talk over a ball was absolutely necessary; and the morning after the assembly brought the former to Longbourn to hear and to communicate.

" _You_ began the evening well, Maria," said Mrs. Bennet with civil self-command to Miss Lucas. " _You_ were Mr. Bingley's first choice." Maria blushed.

"Yes; but he seemed to like his second better." Charlie quipped.

"Oh! You mean Jane, I suppose, because he danced with her twice. To be sure, that DID seem as if he admired her - indeed I rather believe he DID - I heard something about it - but I hardly know what - something about Mr. Robinson."

"Perhaps you mean what I discussed with Mr. Bingley and Mr. Robinson; did not I mention it to you? Mr. Robinson's asking him how he liked our Meryton assemblies, and I asking whether he did not think there were a great many pretty women in the room, and WHICH he thought prettiest? And his answering immediately to the last question: 'Oh! The eldest Miss Bennet, beyond a doubt; there cannot be two opinions on that point." Charlie thoroughly enjoyed the role of Lucas gossip. "MY overhearings were more to the purpose than _yours_ , Lizzy. Mr. Darcy is not so well worth listening to as his friend, is he? Poor Lizzy! - to be only just _tolerable_." Charlie continued in his light tone. Elizabeth and Charles had a friendship of ease and companionship, and each enjoyed testing and teasing the other. The party continued to discuss his abominable pride.

When he had had enough talk of the unpleasant man, Charlie gave a lopsided grin, too crooked to be handsome. "If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy," he joked in a singing voice, "I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of foxhounds and drink a bottle of wine a day!" The room dissolved into a fit of giggles and banter about the ridiculously lavish life of Mr. Darcy.

* * *

Darcy had agreed to accompany his friend to Neverfield with limited expectations of the estate and county. He was loathe to leave his sister Georgiana, but she had insisted that he find some amusement for himself. Darcy felt there might be joy in mentoring his friend Bingley. But this would come at a cost... to be confined within the same home as Bingley's sisters would try his patience. But for his friend, and his sister, he attended. In his sulking state, he did consider the punishment fit for such a reckless guardian. The country assembly had stretched his good manners- this place was no different than any other- the whispers of his wealth were spread throughout the room the moment they entered. He typically would leave the gossips behind, and find some dull corner to pass the night, but he strained to listen, for fear of whispers of Georgiana. And then he had disparaging the most bewitching stranger in the room... A Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

He had wished to push the jolly Bingley back to his partner and leave him alone. He expected that no woman in this room would be worth knowing. But when the lady in question walked past him, he questioned this assumption. She looked at him, knowingly; her fiery eyes held his gaze. Darcy was left in the guilt of knowing she had heard his acid comment. Yet, unlike most women he knew, she brushed him off, chin held defiantly high. She met with a plain looking man across the room, turned to him, and whispered in his ear. She then broke her bewitching stare with him, to smile delightfully at the man, and laugh.

The impertinence and audacity should have completely dismissed her from his thoughts. But he was surprised to find his eyes searching for her the rest of the night. As he paced the hall, he found his chest burning with a strange heat whenever he found her dancing with another, and particularly when he found her she discussing some manner with the plain man.

He discovered through the continued introductions throughout the night that he was indeed the son of Sir William Lucas - a shocking discovery! He had a much more sensible, thoughtful manner to him; nothing like his gabbering kin. Why was it that the brazen woman was constantly returning to the plain Mr. Lucas? What could they be discussing in such a spirited manner that lead to such inappropriate laughter? The twinkle in her eye spoke of great bemusement; but Darcy had found nothing but dull but polite conversation when he met him.

A few days later, Darcy's mind still swirled with a potent concoction of confusion and guilt. He waffled between his critical assessment of his own performance as friend and guardian, only to then jump to the strange feelings he could only guess to be jealousy. But whyever would he be jealous of Mr. Charles Lucas? On the third day after the assembly, he was resolved to banish the green monster of envy and the black monster of self-pity from him. It was a fine morning - he determined a hard ride throughout the pretty countryside would slay the creatures.

* * *

Charlie and Lizzy had an interesting relationship; for a gentleman and a lady to be such dear friends surprised many people. To most, their relationship would most certainly be considered scandalous. Luckily, the two were respectable and discreet, and perhaps more importantly, they were both loved by the community of Meryton. There were two predominant opinions of the pair - they would either marry and end happily ever after, or one would betray the other and leave them in an emotional pit of despair. They both had heard this gossip for years, ever since Lizzy had left the nursery behind. But it was only ever discussed in lighthearted teasing.

For Elizabeth's feelings, she felt a platonic love; deep understanding, respect and comfort in Charles. Lizzy was determined not to discuss the possibility of their marriage with Charlie. The relationship between a man and a woman was precarious - she was content with their lives as they were, and desperately hoped that they would not damage their friendship, no matter what happened.

For now, it was not a concern. Lizzy was but twenty years of age, and under the protection of her father, was not forced to consider marriage at this given moment. Lizzy met Charlie in the wide open fields as they often did. The past assembly was still a discussion point for the ladies at large, but Lizzy and Charlie had moved on to other topics- one could only talk of dances, ribbons, and lace for so long.

"The Richards are in desperate need of some direction. Their flock has thinned significantly over the summer. Too much disease; there must be some awfully soiled conditions... My father is avoiding the problem." Lizzy sighed. Having an estate entailed away provided little encouragement for Mr. Bennet. But Elizabeth had always felt the blessing of their situation; even if her mother would argue that they were to be thrown out into the hedgerows. At least they weren't living in them now. Their family was blessed with more wealth than many, including their tenant families. She was an honest companion to them, and did her best to persuade her father to take action. Her advocating often was given to deaf ears, but she tried nonetheless.

Charlie nodded resolutely. "Oh Lizzy, as much as we both love and respect our fathers, they can both be trying."

Lizzy grinned, "True - in completely opposite ways."

"Yes!" He agreed with a hearty laugh. The two smiled as they left the fields to move up a great hill that was often left unfarmed. Lizzy discussed possible tactics to improving the health of Richards' sheep, without offending the farmer. Lizzy was accustomed with the need to delicately suggest her opinions. She often was interested in what was firmly considered a man's responsibility.

Darcy had ridden his horse hard from Netherfield, and had found his way through beautiful fields and rested atop a hill overlooking more lovely southern farmland. From Lizzy and Charlie's angle, he and his steed were hidden. When he had first laid eyes on the man and woman, he tried to convince himself to mount his horse and ride away - he had come out this fine day to banish his thoughts of the infuriatingly bold dame. He hardened his resolve - certainly neither of them meant a jot to him - running away would suggest otherwise. As they came closer and banished from his view, his ears locked onto their discussion. First, he perked up at their informal exchange. The way Mr. Lucas called her Lizzy sent a flush of heat up his back and brought his brow to an unhappy glower. Their full laughter was equally unseemly according to proper manners; but Darcy found he could not admonish them. Her laughter was too sweet and unconceited to be stifled by the rules of ton. He thought 'If I were Mr. Lucas, I would say whatever necessary to make her laughter ring out true as often as possible.' Then, Miss Elizabeth discussed matters of the estate. Darcy, a gentleman farmer himself, was surprised. He had never heard a woman interested in estate matters; let alone providing options for solving the problems. This brought a real shock to his perception of her. His opinion improved as he listened to her intelligence and tact.

"Whatever we conclude, I will need to propose the suggestions in such a way that Mr. Richards believes HE was the one who thought up the improvement!" Lizzy sighed with a smirk, "Men can be so fragile. Heaven forbid a woman suggest improvements. You are a rare, confident creature, Charlie" The pair summited the hill to find Darcy tending his horse. "Oh!" Lizzy startled and clamped her mouth shut, fully aware that this pompous man had most likely heard all her ill-bred opinions. She could not help be feel her face flush red. She did not mind Mr. Darcy's opinion of her - she knew she was merely tolerable. But, she felt it was prudent to not actively aggravate such a great friend of Mr. Bingley's. Jane and Mr. Bingley had such an innate attraction - she wanted to give no cause for Mr. Darcy to think poorly of them; even if she was not tempting enough for a dance.

"Mr. Darcy," Lizzy greeted with a polite if stiff curtsy.

Darcy turned from his steed, and gave a short bow to the pair.

"Mr. Darcy, greetings. I hope you've been enjoying the countryside." Charlie bowed and smiled softly.

"Yes, it is a fine day for exercise." Darcy quietly agreed. His dark eyes lingered on Miss Elizabeth's glowing cheeks. Her complexion was bright from the climb, and her eyes lively from some inner monologue. He imagined she was challenging him to insult her again. When she once was tolerable, now certainly she we more than pretty. Her spirited countenance transformed her look to something bewitching. Darcy frowned - these were not appropriate thoughts.

Elizabeth mistook Darcy's frown and icy air for disapproval, but she would not be cowed. "Certainly a woman is entitled to her preferences? Mine is walking. Exercise is a harmless activity."

Mr. Lucas reached out to rest his hand upon her shoulder, "Liz, ah- Miss Bennet; Surly Mr. Darcy agrees. There is no need for you to defend yourself."

Charles Lucas smiled. He was a plain man. Darcy never thought himself vain, but he felt himself questioning why Miss Elizabeth allowed him to touch her so familiarly.

"No, certainly not." Darcy formally responded, his dark eyes shifting between the man and woman. Was there something deeper there between the two of them? Were they intended for one another? Or sweethearts from the earliest of days? If that were true- certainly they would already be married! Darcy stiffened - why did he care?

Elizabeth forced her shoulders to relax, and smiled back at Charlie - his level-head served her well. "Of course; excuse my brazen defense, Mr. Darcy." Lizzy was determined to not be frightened by his dark mien, and forced herself to continue on with a light air. "You see, I am accustomed to being told by my mother that no man would respect a lady who tramps across the countryside. Thus, meeting you, I jumped directly to her conclusion. If you would care to refute my mother's EXPERT opinion, I would be most grateful." Her eyes twinkled, daring Mr. Darcy to continue on in her playful manner.

She would be disappointed, but not surprised.

"Tramping across the countryside is not walking. I cannot refuse your mother's opinion in this matter."

Lizzy bit her lower lip, as her eyes found Charlie's. She repressed the laughter here and curtsied, "Good day, Mr. Darcy. I will proceed with my improper behavior." With that, she briskly walked past him and his horse.

"Lizzy!" Charlie called after her. Sighing, he looked to Darcy with a slight smile, and bowed a proper goodbye to the man, and quickly followed in her fearless wake. Darcy watched the pair. He was surprised to find his heartbeat quicken, his hands go clammy. He whispered the name, "Elizabeth," as if trying out a new language. He glowered as he realized - It seemed he would not be vanquishing the green monster any time soon.


	2. Chapter 2

The Bingley sisters soon visited the Bennets, as they honestly wished to enjoy the gentle company of Miss Jane Bennet. What could be said for the rest of the family - they would not discuss. At least, not with Jane. When undisturbed by their mother and younger sisters, Caroline Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were pleasant, if perhaps conceited, conversationalists. They lamented Jane's lack of experience in ton, and regaled her with stories of their most amusing balls. Lizzy felt some of her suspicion falter after their first visit.

But when they came a second time, this time with their cheerful brother, Lizzy confirmed her original assessment. Charlie Lucas and Elizabeth had just finished their late morning walk as the riders of the Bingley carriage were descending to the Bennet home.

"Now Charles - do be sensible and attend to Mrs. Bennet, so _we_ can visit our friend. You were brought along to distract the old loon, _not_ chatter about with Miss Bennet." The sisters snickered, commenting at the annoyance of their host.

Charlie and Elizabeth exchanged a look, but held back, allowing the visitors to enter without knowledge of their unfortunate eavesdropping. When they entered the parlor, it seemed they had just settled. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley sat on either side of Jane while Mr. Bingley sat in a chair across from their mother, who was, indeed, blathering away. Lizzy stifled a laugh as he opened his mouth to add to the discussion, but got no more than a syllable in edgewise. With a sigh, he appeared to capitulate to his assignment, and smiled feebly. With this defeat, he took solace by allowing his eyes to wander and watch Miss Jane Bennet. Charlie and Lizzy welcomed their guests quickly, and found their way to an unoccupied corner to observe. Elizabeth was particularly interested in the warm looks Mr. Bingley bestowed upon her sister.

"How dull the countryside is, Louisa. Miss Bennet, YOUR company is the only thing I have been pleased with thus far." Caroline continued to complain at the joyless task of keeping house over a rented home. "Charles - you must purchase an estate. Renting one is so dreadful. Look in Derbyshire, then we can be closely situated to our dear friends, the Darcys."

Lizzy hid a scowl under the bright shine of a smile. "But Miss Bingley, Derbyshire is a long distance from London. Here at Netherfield, it is such an easy trip to your beloved ton." Elizabeth suspected Caroline was not oblivious to her previous slight to Hertfordshire. But Lizzy found she could not care - how wretched it would be if the Bingley sisters actually liked it here! Imagine if they planned to take over Meryton with what Lizzy imagined to be their snide friends.

"True … But ton is not as pleasant as the exceedingly perfect company of Mr. and Miss Darcy. Truly accomplished, regal people they are."

Mr. Bingley finally excused himself from Mrs. Bennet's conversation and walked toward the three, but his eyes were ever-fixed on Jane. "Caroline, perhaps next season we will look elsewhere for an estate. But for now, I find I am most pleased with Hertfordshire." Jane's eyes crinkled with the delight of a true smile.

* * *

 _Pride & Prejudice - Chapter 6_

It was generally evident whenever they met, that Mr. Bingley _did_ admire her and to _Elizabeth_ it was equally evident that Jane was yielding to the preference which she had begun to entertain for him from the first, and was in a way to be very much in love; but Lizzy considered with pleasure that it was not likely to be discovered by the world in general, since Jane united, with great strength of feeling, a composure of temper and a uniform cheerfulness of manner which would guard her from the suspicions of the impertinent. She mentioned this to her friend Mr. Lucas.

"It is perhaps pleasant," replied Charlie, "to be able to impose on the public in such a case; but it is sometimes a disadvantage to be so very guarded. If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him; and it will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in the dark. There is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every attachment, that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all _begin_ freely - a slight preference is natural enough; but there are are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement. In nine cases out of ten a woman had better show _more_ affection that's she feels. Bingley likes your sister undoubtedly; but he may never do more than like her, if she does not help him on."

"But she does help him on, as much as her nature will allow. If I can perceive her regard for him, he must be a simpleton, indeed, not to discover it too."

"Remember, Lizzy, that he does not know Jane's disposition as you do."

"But if a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavor to conceal it, he must find it out."

"Perhaps he must, if he sees enough of her. But, though Bingley and Jane meet tolerably often, it is never for many hours together; and, as they always see each other in late mixed parties, it is impossible that every moment should be employed in conversing together. Jane should therefore makes the most of ever half-hour in which she can command his attention. When she is secure of him, there will be more leisure for falling in love as much as she chooses …"

Charlie mused as Lizzy baffled at her friend's opinion. True, they had never explicitly discussed such matters, but she was shocked at his calculated assessment. While she struggled to reply, Charlie continued: "You must also remember that Bingley is besieged with other, most likely negative opinions of your family's circumstance. Consider, he did nothing to curtail his sister, and even suggested he might give way to her notions. He also looks upon Mr. Darcy as a source of advise. Are you certain that Jane's quiet feelings will outshine Miss Bingley's loud judgments? I do believe that Miss Bingley has greater plans for her brother than a Hertfordshire lass."

Lizzy frowned, "But - in matters of the heart; in the choice of the partner for one's life … a man would not abdicate to his sister or his friend."

Charlie laughed softly. "Lizzy! Just because _you_ have the will of a mule does not mean the rest of the populace is as stubborn as you."

Lizzy started to protest, but Charlie stopped her, calmly lifting a hand. "Mr. Bingley does not appear to me as a man of unshakable convictions. He is amiable to be certain, but he has rented a new estate and called upon a friend to oversee it. He has brought both his sisters to keep his house. I believe Bingley is just the sort of happy man who may be swayed by the wishes of others. And Lizzy," he added, "There is absolutely nothing wrong with that either."

"I am somewhat surprised at this assessment, Charlie." Lizzy crossed her arms in distress. "But even if you are true, I simply cannot believe a man of consequence, including Mr. Bingley, would not look to his _own_ opinions when considering his wife." Although her words claimed a steady opinion, Lizzy respected Charlie enough to think upon his words at a later time. Charles had more interactions and conversation with Mr. Bingley than she or even Jane had. The seed of doubt had been planted.

"Well," said Charlie, "I wish Jane success with all my heart. If she shall not take the leap of overt, unaffected affections, then we must hope that Mr. Bingley will not need them."

* * *

Lucas Lodge was known throughout town for it's hospitable evenings amongst merry friends. At one such party, Miss Elizabeth Bennet conversed with Mr. Lucas and Colonel Foster, the lead officer of a militia regiment which was set to winter this year in Meryton. Lizzy conversed with such an ease; the Colonel and his young bride were thoroughly charmed by her light quips and welcoming conversation. She advised them on the best shops of the village for her pleasure, the best fields for training his soldiers, and the best locations to strategically defend the most populated areas in case of disaster.

Charlie's plain face was somewhat more pleasing when he smiled at Lizzy. He knew of no other woman who could skillfully converse on such a wide range of topics - and thread them together in such a way to invite everyone into the conversation.

Darcy had been attending to Miss Elizabeth Bennet's discussion, and quickly dissected Mr. Lucas' face - it had somehow transformed into something closer to handsome. He could see it teeming with pride for Miss Bennet's acumen and tact. His stomach roiled with acid. _That_ was the sort of love he desired - to be granted the pleasure to glow at the gentle accomplishments of your partner. To bask in the graceful intelligence of your beloved. Darcy felt his blood turn cold; the back of his neck became gooseflesh. Miss Elizabeth Bennet was _just_ the sort of woman he could love. Was Miss Elizabeth Bennet just the sort of woman that _Mr. Lucas_ loved? Darcy wavered in his assessment of Mr. Lucas' gaze. Could it be the platonic love of a brother? He could see parallels of that glow to his own countenance with Georgiana. When she performed the piano forte, or when she quietly conversed with him. He smiled so when he was certain she would continue to grow into the gentlest and kindest of ladies. Or was his a look of contented, acknowledged love? Darcy's gaze drifted from Mr. Lucas back to Miss Bennet. She was a lively, beautiful creature. Her playful manners put the world at ease, and her intelligence was certain to entertain. She was suddenly aware of his fixed stare, and he watched her question and then steel herself and turn back to her company. Miss Elizabeth Bennet had no connections, most likely no dowry; there was no reason to take her as a wife. But _she was_ just the sort of woman Darcy would like to marry. It occurred to him, as he continued to drink in her playful whit, that he had never before thought such a thing.

Lizzy curtsied to her new acquaintances and smiled goodbye. Grabbing Charlie by the arm, she led them to the buffet table to acquire a glass of wine.

"Mr. Lucas," she whispered, after taking a long sip. "What can you suppose Mr. Darcy means by staring at me so, and listening in upon our conversation?"

Charlie raised his eyebrows, throwing the question right back at her, "What do _you_ suppose Mr. Darcy means, Lizzy?"

She scowled with a sigh, "Well, I AM only tolerable" here her eyes sparkled with the absurdity of the comment, "- he must be contemptuously devising other insults to hurl at me. Or perhaps, critiquing my presumptuous opinions about militia and tactics."

Charlie, eyebrows still raised, gave a small smirk. "Is that so."

"It could be nothing else!"

* * *

Mr. Darcy was waylaid by Sir William Lucas later in the evening. He was convinced his gathering would bring vast enjoyment to Mr. Darcy. Why, at such a capital event between friends, there was no cause for unhappiness or distress. Miss Mary Bennet was indulging her youngest sisters in a reel when Sir Lucas launched into a conversation with Mr. Darcy.

"My, Mr. Darcy, what a delightful evening this has been. And now for the young people - the joy of dancing; one of the refinements, you know!"

"Every savage can dance," Mr. Darcy replied in the shortest manner possible while maintaining some measure of politeness.

"Ah…" Sir William Lucas awkwardly tried to avoid the impending conflict. "Well, your friend is a grand dancer. I am sure you have just as much grace, sir."

Darcy turned to view Bingley grinning from ear to ear as he danced with his beloved angel. Miss Bennet looked serene under his lavish attention. The younger Bennet sisters were giggling with boundless energy as they flirted and stomped about with the young officers. "I believe you witnessed me dance at the assembly earlier. You may deduce your judgments from those performances."

Still determined to entertain Mr. Darcy, Sir William Lucas watched Elizabeth move nearby, making her way to the other side of the room. She flinched at the outrageous laughter inappropriately bursting from Miss Lydia. "Ah - Miss Lizzy!" Sir Lucas grabbed her by the hand, and presented Mr. Darcy with a most enticing partner. "Miss Lizzy is the liveliest of partners; Most desirable! Mr. Darcy, surly you can join your friend and accompany Miss Lizzy."

Elizabeth blushed at the notion of being the _livliest_ of dancers. She was just admonishing her youngest sisters for their overpowering vigor.

Darcy gaze darkened as he enjoyed the pink kissing her cheeks. "Miss Bennet, I would be honored if you would dance the next with me." Darcy outstretched his hand, certain of his acceptance.

Elizabeth balked at the man- "I am sorry, but I have promised the next to Mr. Lucas," she lied. "I was just making my way across the room to find him."

Sir William Lucas blustered. "But, Miss Lizzy! You can dance with Charles at any time, he will of course defer to Mr. Darcy."

Darcy continued his solemn stare, and again offered his hand.

Fiery eyes met his gaze, and she dared to stand her ground - "I am sure Mr. Darcy is all politeness, and would acquiesce to _tolerate_ me, I am sure. But I really must find Charlie." With a quick curtsy, she darted off. Finding her friend, she whispered harshly, "Dance with me…" And pulled him away from his conversation with Mr. Hurst.

Darcy stood appalled for a moment. First, he realized that he was not only rejected, but replaced by the plain Charles Lucas. Never before had he been so rebuffed by a woman. He dumbly lowered his offered arm, and stalked to the edge of the room, leaving his host perhaps more dumbfounded than himself. Then, he worked to deduce her meaning and slowly discovered she must had heard his stupid comment at the assembly. As he watched the pair begin the set, Darcy found his opinion of her had not be injured, but perhaps even bolstered. But the same could not be said for his feelings toward Mr. Charles Lucas.


	3. Chapter 3

As the mist turned to rain, Lizzy gazed out the window and let out an audible sigh. She cringed, anticipating her sister's great humiliation at this absurd scheme.

"Don't you admonish me, Miss Lizzy! This is _just_ the thing your sister needs. Some quality time with Mr. Bingley and his feelings will flourish, indeed!"

"Mother, you cannot believe that Jane will see much of Mr. Bingley while she is there. The men will be out when she arrives, and once she is ill and quarantined to a bed, it would be quite improper for a gentleman to spend _quality time_ with her. More likely, his sisters will see to her, and complain to him of her poor constitution!"

Mrs. Bennet waved away her daughter's logic and chirped that she was certain Jane would make the most of this rain. Congratulating herself on her sly plan, she admonished her daughter, telling her to work on her own accomplishments. "You cannot rely on your looks as Jane can." Lizzy forced herself to smile at her mother, and excused herself to her father's library where she sulked behind the protection of a good book.

The following morning, Lizzy received a quick missive from Jane. While not directly asking for her, Lizzy felt certain her sister needed her. She was determined to go to her, and stubbornly refused the horses. A walk would suit her just fine.

Once she parted from her younger sisters in Meryton, Elizabeth found herself thinking over her friend's advice. Mr. Lucas felt that Jane was not doing enough to advance her wishes of a relationship with Mr. Bingley. She could not believe it to be true! Yet - she found herself thinking on this assessment quite often over the last few days. Would she keep contemplating upon it if she was so convinced that it was laughable? Was it really that unreasonable to think Mr. Bingley needed more encouragement to ask for Jane's hand? She had always considered herself an adept analyst of the character of others. Had she projected her own self-determination onto Mr. Bingley? She was certain SHE would only marry for the deepest of loves. It was hard for her to imagine a man of such consequence lacking the autonomy and independence he would be granted through his good fortune. She would relish such an opportunity. But then again, there were many fools in this world. And folly was blind to the social standing or riches of the world - indeed, Lizzy occasionally wondered if a good standing in life increased one's chances of becoming insensible. Throughout her musings, she was absolutely incoherent to her environment, making her way over stiles and trekking through the muddiest paths without much attention for decorum. When she discovered her own insensibility, she could not help but laugh. She found herself upon Netherfield before she expected, flushed from the exercise and determined to observe Mr. Bingley anew when she had the chance.

* * *

She was welcomed by the servants and delivered to the happy party in the morning parlor. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley stood, though in vastly different manners. Mr. Darcy was stiff as a board, and launched from his seat as if his chair had caught fire. He stared at her with what began as shock, and then she watched his gaze take in her entire person, and then darken to something she could only deduce to be contempt - as if he wished to rid her of all the dirt and impropriety. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst both could not contain the shock from their faces, though they politely inquired, "Is it not quite a distance from Longbourn? It is five miles, I am certain."

"It is but three miles, and the exercise was quite stirring. As Mr. Darcy knows, walking is a favorite pastime of mine."

The man said nothing, but his staring did no cease at her reference to their prior conversation.

Mr. Bingley welcomed her warmly and stood with what appeared to be a real happiness at seeing her. "I am certain you will bring much comfort to your sister. And as I am her host, I am pleased to provide the relief, even if you did most the work - I plan to take credit, Miss Elizabeth!"

With that, Mr. Bingley directed a servant to show Miss Elizabeth to Miss Bennet's quarters. The day passed quickly, with short visits from the Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. When they attended Jane, Elizabeth observed kindness and shared misery - how dreadful it was to be ill. Lizzy smiled politely, but did not add to the conversation, nor did her sister. Instead, she kept a cloth cool and fresh for her sister's head, and read her needs and ushered their hosts away when she could see Jane's strength waver. She took joy in the ability to provide her beloved sister any comfort. Seeing Lizzy's considerable efforts and Jane's pleading eyes when it was time for her to part, Miss Bingley succumbed to manners and invited Lizzy to stay and accompany her sister until she was improved. A servant was dispatched to Longbourn directly to collect a trunk.

When her belongs arrived, Lizzy changed out of her day dress to prepare for dinner; she couldn't keep the bemused smile from her lips as she looked at the dried mud on her skirts. At least Mr. Bingley enjoyed their country manners. She peered at her image in a beautiful mirror, far larger and clearer than what she shared with her sisters. Tucking a few errant curls back into her chignon, she decided she looked the best she could, and stopped to check on her sister one last time.

She was pleased to see Jane was finally asleep; "No excuses then," she smirked to herself.

Finding the sitting room, Lizzy was not surprised to find Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst had yet to join the party. Smiling and curtsying to the three men politely, she went to stand before a grand landscape painting as they awaited the ladies. Mr. Hurst grumbled about his wife, but then turned to his brother-in-law and inquired after a shooting party tomorrow.

"Yes," Mr. Bingley agreed quickly. "A small party from town will be joining us for the day. Sir William Lucas and his son, Mr. Thompson, and Mr. Stokes. I hope the weather stays fine." Mr. Hurst concurred, and Bingley stole away. "Miss Elizabeth! Tell me, how does your sister fare?"

"I wish I could provide you a better report, Mr. Bingley. Jane is still ill; worse than when I arrived. But she has been up throughout the day more than perhaps she should have. I will not allow her to stretch herself again tomorrow. Hopefully tonight she will break the fever. But for now, she does sleep."

Mr. Bingley wrung his hands and started to ramble a set of apologies.

"Please, Mr. Bingley! Do not distress yourself," Lizzy stopped him. Smiling warmly, she assured him, "Mr. Bingley, Jane is finding more rest and comfort here than she would at home. A house filled with four energetic sisters cannot be an opportune infirmary. I am most thankful for your generosity, sir. She shall rally."

With that, the ladies entered, looking far more grand than Lizzy thought necessary for a family meal. But, as dinner progressed, Elizabeth understood the pomp and circumstance. Miss Caroline Bingley was enthralled with Mr. Darcy- though she seemed oblivious to his indifference. She was _determined_ to please him. With a bemused smirk, she thought - Let her have him.

* * *

After dinner, Bingley dismissed the need for the separation of the sexes. Miss Elizabeth excused herself to care for her sister. Darcy was still baffled that she was here, at Netherfield. To see her occasionally was torture enough. Now she was to stay until her sister was better? He grimaced - this morning had been too much. She had come in from the crisp morning like a dream. He had found her tousled appearance positively arousing. As if reading his mind, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst reminded the party again of Miss Elizabeth's shocking appearance and primitive manners. Caroline assumed this escapade belittled his opinion of Miss Elizabeth's 'fine eyes.' He assured her that his opinion of that lady's person had not been transformed. "Indeed, her color was heightened by the exertion."

Why Caroline Bingley was choosing _this_ subject for their evening conversation baffled him. Was she completely blind to his indifference - in fact, his _dislike_ of her? Did he not make it clear that he found Miss Elizabeth Bennet an attractive woman? How could he make it more apparent without being abominably rude to his friend?

He was determined to not attend the rest of their conversation as they disparaged the lady. He could hear Bingley try to defend her, but the women continued their onslaught. She had be covered in mud; she had walked three miles alone; she had certainly not been wearing her bonnet. She had been completely disinterested in the opinion of society. Was _that_ what he was attracted to? Her self-assurance? Her dedication to her own sense of right and wrong.

What was he thinking! Had he not told Miss Bingley the other night that he simply found Miss Elizabeth's figure pleasing; her eyes an interesting beauty to enjoy? Was he now considering that he found more than her person engaging? But, in fact, her personality was just as intriguing? He was again torn between these new strong feelings, and his preconceived presumptions of his ideal partner.

* * *

Lizzy returned to her sister's room after dinner, and was pleased to find her still asleep, but worried when she found her drenched from the fever. Lizzy did her best to wipe away the sweat of sickness and keep her sister cool without waking her. After a few hours, Jane finally fell into a restful, calm sleep. Elizabeth supposed that the fever had broke. Her own hair had become a mess throughout her tireless work, but she let it be and found her way to the drawing room.

Mr. Darcy stared at her again, his eyes affixed on her unkempt hair. He was unaccustomed to seeing a woman present herself imperfectly to company. He was constantly surrounded by ladies putting on masks of elegant gowns and pleasing manners and perfect smiles. Miss Elizabeth did none of these things. He assumed her carelessness would irk him, but instead he felt himself thrilled by her vulnerable yet easy sense of self. He considered her strength as he watched her, noting to himself that even he, the grand owner of Pemberly, wore a mask for company. She seemed fearless.

Lizzy found a book and combated the rest of the party who played at cards. She was no great reader, would be pleased with the books available in the room, and was again grateful to be allowed to stay to assist her sister. She did note Bingley's self assessment:

"I wish my collection were larger for your benefit and my own credit; but I am an idle fellow, and though I have not many, I have more than I ever looked into."

She returned his smile at his self-deprecation, but filed his words away toward her new assessment of the man. While she may find his lack of interest in books undesirable, she honestly believed such a thing would not trouble her sister. She was pleased that he was willing to laugh at himself, but she wondered if this was a defense to distract from his self-confidence (or perhaps lack thereof). Lizzy shook her head, smiling at her memory of Charlie. She quickly decided she was overthinking the situation and returned to her book.

Although she was determined to read, she was distracted by Miss Bingley's interrogation of Mr. Darcy. Miss Bingley simpered at the man. "Mr. Darcy, you must advise me. I find I am no match for Mr. Hurst."

"I am currently occupied, Miss Bingley. And Mr. Hurst would certainly object to my involvement."

The mentioned man simply shrugged and continue the gameplay.

"Occupied with what, sir?"

"I am writing my sister."

Caroline Bingley continued to extol the fine accomplishments of Miss Darcy, lament how long it had been since they had been together, and request that Mr. Darcy write to her that she was dearly missed. Mr. Darcy grumbled some replies, but Mr. Bingley continued the conversation admirably.

"You ladies are full of such talents - it amazes me that you all have the patience to be so very accomplished."

"All ladies accomplished - certainly not!" Miss Bingley reprimanded.

"Yes, all of them, I think. They play instruments, paint tables, net purses, embroider handkerchiefs; all fine arts which require a great patience that I certainly do not contain. I scarcely know a young lady who was not introduced as very accomplished."

Mr. Darcy advised his friend: "Your list is of common skills. The word _accomplished_ is applied rather liberally. I cannot boast of knowing more than half-a-dozen women who are really accomplished."

"Nor I, Mr. Darcy," said Miss Bingley.

Elizabeth could not hold her tongue, and she goaded the pair. "Then you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman." She prepared herself to hold back her laughter.

"Certainly! No one can be really esteemed accomplish who does not greatly suppress with what is usually met. She must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half-deserved."

"And to all this," Mr. Darcy darkly added, "she must add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading."

With a short huff, Elizabeth smiled to hide her disgust. "I am no longer surprised at your knowing _only_ six accomplished women; I rather wonder at your knowing _any_."

Mrs. Hurst gasped, "Are you so severe upon our own sex. We know _many_ accomplished women in our circles."

"Well," Lizzy smirked, discretely rolling her eyes. "I never saw such a woman. She would be fierce indeed." Her gaze locked with Mr. Darcy, daring him to name these women. He held her eyes, a small frown upon his lips. The ladies continued to list their fine acquaintances who surly were quite fine, accomplished women.

"Excuse me, Mr. Bingley," Lizzy called, as the group dealt out the next hand of cards. "I will go to my sister now. But, before I leave, I shall be quite rude - please excuse my boorish manners. Earlier you noted that Mr. Charles Lucas will be apart of your hunting party tomorrow. I would be quite pleased to see him tomorrow."

"Certainly, Miss Elizabeth! The entire party will be invited to dinner. You will certainly have a chance to visit."

"Thank you sir. You are all kindness. Again, thank you for your generosity. Good night." With a polite curtsy, she was gone.

Mr. Darcy sat, his hand twitching and his eyes darkly staring at his page. A most disturbing feeling wrestled its way through his chest. She taunted him with her teasing conversation, daring him to give into his ardor. His self-importance clouded his judgement; he believed her to like him, but her preference for Mr. Lucas' company bristled his pride, and he determined he must do something to change that. He would be careful, not to raise her expectations; for he still believed himself capable of enjoying her company without falling off the path of duty.


	4. Chapter 4

Although Lizzy was certain that her sister was improving, she still felt it right to request her mother to visit and form her own judgement of Jane's health. Mrs. Bennet and her two youngest and silliest daughters arrived after a quiet breakfast at Netherfield. Lizzy quickly corralled her impossible family and brought them to Jane's room.

"Mother - you didn't need to bring _everyone_ ," She grumbled.

"Nonsense Lizzy! Your sisters have every right to attend this visit. They are curious as to the state of the guest chambers at Netherfield. You know we are anxious to assess their quality, as we will soon have cause to often visit." Mrs. Bennet smirked like a cat who caught a mouse; Lizzy wondered if she would ever become accustomed to her mother's constant presumptions.

Mrs. Bennet determined her daughter to be suffering from a nasty cold, but nothing to cause any guilt on her part. She crooned at Jane, advising her to not stress herself too hard, to take her recovery slowly, and to make the most of Mr. Bingley's generosity.

When the gaggle of Bennet women left the eldest alone, Mrs. Bennet insisted on thanking their host. After a quick good word for her daughter, she could not help but profess her judgments of their fine rooms. "It is so beautiful here at Netherfield- you will not think of quitting it in a hurry, I hope."

"Whatever I do is done in a hurry," Mr. Bingley laughed. "And therefore if I should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five minutes. At present, however, I am most pleased to remain."

Elizabeth could not help but softly smile, but quickly filled the silence before her mother or sisters could. "That is exactly what I should have supposed of you."

"You comprehend me, do you?" Mr. Bingley walked decidedly up to her, grinning in his welcoming manner.

Whereas Elizabeth might have professed to perfectly understand him days before, she curtailed her confidence, and simply stated, "I believe I do - or at least, I am a very good way toward confirming all my suspicions of your character."

"I wish I might take this for a compliment; but perhaps I should be embarrassed at being so easily understood."

"No sir - It does not follow that a deep, intricate character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours."

"Lizzy!" Mrs. Bennet shrieked. "Remember yourself- do not babble on in the wild manner you might at home. Sir -" she sweetly smiled, "Please excuse her brazenness - she does not get it from me!"

Mr. Bingley assured them all there was nothing to be forgiven. "I didn't know you were a studier of characters, Miss Elizabeth. It must be amusing!"

"Yes," Elizabeth confirmed, "but intricate character are the _most_ amusing. They have at least that advantage."

Darcy found his opportunity to enter into the conversation, and noted: "The country must supply few subjects for your amusement, Miss Bennet. Country neighborhoods do tend to be confined and unvarying."

Lizzy thought Mr. Darcy's presumptuous comment was very in-character to his manners, but was determined not to rise to his baiting. "But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them for ever."

Mrs. Bennet was affronted by this assessment, and cried out that he was certainly wrong. "The country is a vast deal pleasanter than London - is it not, Mr. Bingley?"

"When I am in the country, I never wish to leave it; and when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They each have their advantages, and I can be equally happy in either."

Mrs. Bennet was perhaps not completely pleased by this reply. "You have the right disposition Mr. Bingley. But _that_ gentleman seemed to think the country was nothing at all."

Lizzy could not help but blush as embarrassment seeped deep into her chest. She had the restraint to refrain from a fronting Mr. Darcy, but it seemed her mother did not. "Mother, you are mistaken, I am sure …" To insult the friend of a man who extended such generosity was unnecessary. "Mr. Darcy only meant that there was not such a variety of people to be met in the country - you must acknowledge this to be true."

"Perhaps," Mrs. Bennet reluctantly conceded. She continued to preen and boast of the large number of families in this neighborhood, of the pleasantness and vivacity of their country manners, of the great people who graced this small town.

Elizabeth was mortified at her mother, along her with sisters who chirped in their most fervent agreement. As quickly as she could, she asked after Mr. Charlie Lucas, wondering if he and the family at large had any news - really anything to distract her mother from her absurd comments.

"Yes, Yes … He is a good sort of man, though not as well-bred as his father. It is really a pity that he is so plain - but then again he is our particular friend."

Lizzy was relieved at the turn of conversation, but noted the vastly different faces around the room. Mr. Bingley looked happy to discuss him, and agreed with Mrs. Bennet, stating he found Mr. Lucas very pleasant and very agreeable. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst traded glances and smirks of mockery. And Mr. Darcy looked absolutely grim.

Mrs. Bennet continued to chatter along about the Lucases, which soon turned to the young Maria, who was also condemned to be plain. "Jane is such a great beauty, Mrs. Lucas has always envied my daughter. Why, Jane was only fifteen when a man from town as so much in love with her that we were sure he would offer. However, he did not; although he did write some pretty verses for her."

"And so ended his affection!" Elizabeth stared at her mother. What was she thinking? Determined to drive the conversation to something a bit more philosophical and less uncomfortable for the party at large, Lizzy proclaimed "There has been many a one, I fancy, whose attention fizzled out after an ode. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!"

"I have been used to consider poetry as the _food_ of love." Mr. Darcy again engaged in the conversation, though Elizabeth was not sure why.

"Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away."

Darcy smirked a sideways smile, as if he couldn't approve of enjoying her assessment or encourage her at all. Lizzy longed to fill the following silence before her mother could, but struggled to continue as she processed Mr. Darcy's strangled expression. Instead, Mrs. Bennet thanked specifically the Bingley's yet again for their kindness. Her sisters continued to giggle at their own fine jokes, and harassed Mr. Bingley into agreeing to throw a ball.

Mortification was not a strong enough word to describe Elizabeth's feelings. Once the women had left, she fled to Jane's room, for she feared what the party might say. She could only hope that her assessment of Mr. Bingley was true - he cared for Jane and would not let a silly family mar her sister's prospects. As she cooled Jane's forehead, and sat in companionable silence, she thought upon his words, his self-assessment of his flexibility, and worked to further piece together the man's nature.

* * *

The day had stayed fine, even after the whirlwind which was the Mrs. And Miss Bennets. Darcy was baffled at their crass manners, and perhaps even more at their firm belief in their own civility. Their blindness was appalling - the idea that the eldest Miss Bennets were cut from the same cloth seemed impossible. Happy for _that_ event to be complete, the men moved on to their sport. The hounds were collected, the invited gentlemen were greeted and granted a celebratory ale, and the group began their hike to the best vistas on the grounds for hunting ducks.

Mr. Darcy was determined to better observe Mr. Charles Lucas. But on their walk, he was outmaneuvered by Bingley. His cheerful friend had positioned himself next to the young man, and allowed his brother-in-law and the other gentleman from Meryton to outpace him. Darcy planned to fall back with the young pair, but heard in Bingley's voice a sort of strained anxiety. Mr. Darcy sighed and decided to move ahead enough to provide the pair some privacy. His focus would then turn to their hunting, or so he convinced himself.

Mr. Bingley was often among happy young women, and found many a lovely face in London. But in ton, he often had the opinion of other friends to lean upon. At his club he was sure to find a fellow with details about the character and accomplishments of each fine lady. But here in Hertfordshire, he had seen Miss Jane Bennet at six different occasions, and had only himself to assess her character. Yes, his sisters had found friendship in her, but they also seemed to believe her below his notice. With Darcy in attendance, he might had asked _his_ opinion of her; but Bingley felt that Darcy's reserve might not be best suited for judging her. That was why inviting Mr. Lucas to today's party was so essential. Certainly Mr. Lucas would assume it was the proper thing to do as a principal man of the neighborhood. But Bingley could bashfully admit to himself that he greatly desired Mr. Lucas' honest opinion of the lovely Miss Bennet. It was obvious from their acquaintance that the Lucas and Bennet families were very close. To ascertain the opinion of Miss Bennet from a man, nearer his age than most, was his objective today. Charles Lucas was a fine man, with a very long history with the family - he was a perfect witness.

"Mr. Lucas, you greatly honor me by joining us today. It is so great to find such a fine man to befriend,"

"Mr. Bingley - I must stop you; for you are beginning to sound like my Father." Charlie continued to walk forward, but looked at Bingley from the side of his eyes, and allowed the corners of his lips to curl up with a knowing smile. "Please, it is I who is grateful for the invitation. I am certain it will be a most pleasant day."

Bingley assured the son that Sir William Lucas was an excellent man.

"Yes; he is indeed a _capital_ man."

At this they both shared a good humored laugh.

"Please - you must call me Bingley!"

"As you please, though you are then obliged to call me Lucas."

"Not Charlie, as Miss Elizabeth Bennet calls you?" Bingley bantered as he assured his dogs that they were continuing to the hunting fields.

Mr. Lucas laughed - "Well, you must know the Bennet girls are especially close to my family. And that name was not so distasteful when you are a lad of twelve. Although I will not forbid you that honor, if you _do_ call me Charlie, you _will_ be required to meet me after every assembly and gossip through the whole of breakfast."

"Is that what ladies do the day after a ball?" Bingley asked with a sparkle in his eye. He yearned to ask what Miss Bennet had said about him, but he bit his tongue and began his inquisition in a more convoluted way- or so he thought. "Well, the Miss Bennets are lucky to have a friend in you. You have known them since your youth then? I would love to hear your assessment of their character. You see, Miss Elizabeth is staying to tend to her sister; she has professed to be a great study of personalities. I must collect any knowledge I can to surprise her at her own game."

With a chuckle, Charlie professed, "Lizzy would admit to such a thing." Shaking his head slightly, he took a long look at Bingley. Though he smiled with ease and good humor in his face, Mr. Lucas could discern the anxiety of his answer in the quick darting of Bingley's eyes. Charles Lucas was pleased to be able to assist Jane in this way, though he was determined to be honest and frank. He would not profess any hint at Jane's interest in Bingley- for he had not completely confirmed this himself (Lizzy would be livid at him for that opinion, but it was true). But he _could_ explain her character more fully to Bingley, and perhaps help the man on.

"Well - the eldest Miss Bennet is perhaps the kindest young lady I know - truly. She has no guile, is genuinely hopeful and positive, and believes the very best in all her acquaintances. She has felt the pressures and expectations of her mother most keenly, and has perhaps become more reserved and proper because of them. But behind that serenity is a gentlewoman of sincere feeling."

Mr. Bingley drank in this candid information like a man provided water in the desert. Lucas' words confirmed his every feeling. She _was_ a woman to be admired. Her polite manners and content countenances were not an act. He forced himself to contain his smile, by pressing his lips together and keeping his eyes focused on Darcy ahead of them.

When Bingley did not comment, Mr. Lucas continued with his analysis of the women, happy to also share his opinion of Lizzy.

"Now, Miss _Elizabeth_ Bennet is exactly what you might expect, for she has no qualms about showing her character for all to judge. Headstrong, willful, and idealistic to her own sense of right and wrong, Lizzy is her own woman. Her intelligence and wit cannot be contained to the restrictions of a _fashionable_ gentlewoman. But, I must admit, she is my very best of friends. It may be strange, but she has been my companion and confidant for a long time. And she is far cleverer than the men in this town anyway - including me!"

Bingley chuckled at this assessment of his house guest. "Well - I will be sure to use this knowledge against her," he smiled. "Ah, gentleman! We have a fine day for our sport - let's get on with it; disturb those happy birds!"

Charlie was sensible to the fact that Bingley did not need an assessment of the younger Miss Bennets. The kinder side of him thought all three had time to grow and develop into something better than their current identities. The more sensible side knew them to be 'very silly girls.' He was also not oblivious to the fact that Mr. Darcy had slowed his pace, and walked with a particular stiffness while he discussed Lizzy's character. Charlie had noticed Mr. Darcy's eyes burning at Lizzy- he knew that look for what it was, and was honestly surprised to see such a passion from the aloof Mr. Darcy. He considered how that relationship would work - Elizabeth would surely bring a liveliness and playfulness to the responsibility-ridden gentleman. But Charlie assumed that Lizzy and her family were far too beneath his station to be a real prospect. Would Elizabeth would be interested in a life beyond Meryton? If she knew his interest, would she continue her fervent intolerance of the man? He knew her to be very stubborn; she would probably not consider the many opportunities being such a man's wife would include. As he shot his birds, to the cheers of his father, he thought upon whether he should shield Lizzy from this man's interest, or push her to advance herself in his eyes.

Charles Lucas had always held Miss Elizabeth Bennet in very high esteem. He had fancied himself partial to her from the very beginning. He was honest when he judged her to be smarter than himself; they had great respect for one another. While he often considered asking Elizabeth to be his wife, he had kept from doing so for some time. She was young; though not silly and foolish like her younger sisters. But she _was_ a romantic, and he could not profess a great passion which he did not possess. He was happy to bide his time; if she found some grand love, he would wish her the very best. But if not, he would be very much pleased to unite in a sensible marriage of affability and respect.

* * *

Darcy had done his best to stay far enough ahead of Bingley and Mr. Lucas to hear the tone of their conversation, but not the words themselves. But when Darcy heard a word he believed to be 'gossip' - he could not help but slow his pace to listen to the words. He could hardly accept that Bingley would wish to consort with gossipers! But as he listened to the true turn of the conversation, he was far more interested: the characters of the Miss Bennets - from Mr. Lucas' perspective. His blood burned hotter as he felt a small dose of self-reproach. Still, he did not improve his pace to avoid eavesdropping on their tete-a-tete.

Mr. Lucas' description of Miss Bennet was very tender. For a moment, Darcy wondered if it was the classic beauty that held Mr. Lucas' interest. But Darcy decided that there was no warmth or love in his voice while he spoke of the fair woman. But then he continued on to Miss Elizabeth. There was a quiet joy in his timbre, and Darcy could not help but notice Charles Lucas started by describing perhaps her less-than-perfect attributes. Where as he had put Miss Jane Bennet in the very best of lights, he playfully admitted the imperfections of Miss Elizabeth. Darcy cringed when the man professed her as 'his very best of friends, his companion and confidant.' Mr. Lucas was surely in love with her; Darcy was convinced. No one but a suitor of Cupid could speak of faults with such affection. With a stiff back and blood changing from boiling to ice and back again with each step, Darcy pushed forward, as the pack of shooters collected at the edge of a field, pleasantly preparing to disturb the hiding fowls.

Darcy shot an excellent round, and bagged himself plenty of birds for the entire party to be pleased with. He paid Mr. Lucas a fair amount of attention. Charlie herded his father and limited the number of instances he could proclaim the day and the sport as "Capital!" Mr. Lucas' manners were the same as Darcy had ever seen them. He was sensible and shrewd, working the men's conversation toward common interests, positive thoughts, and an all-about sense of community. He politely praised Darcy's skills without superfluous veneration; he quietly laughed with Bingley with a genuine smile; he was effortless with the Meryton gentlemen; he even produced more than a mumble from Mr. Hurst. Darcy was begrudgingly impressed by his discerning presence.

When the men had enjoyed their sport to the fullest, and the dogs were satisfied with their rewards, the crew made their way back to the house, where Bingley had invited them all to stay for a meal.

"Lucas, Miss Elizabeth noted last night she was pleased with the prospect of seeing you." Bingley noted as they leisurely returned to the manor.

"Yes, Bingley, as am I. I am certain she has some new topic to discuss, as she always does."

"And what do you mean by that, Sir?" Mr. Darcy questioned.

"Oh - only that Miss Elizabeth has an insatiable desire for knowledge. She is constantly reading on one subject or another, and we often discuss her discoveries. Though - she often finds subjects in which I know no more, if not less, than her! But we still consider these topics and themes, for sometimes all she requires is an individual to talk to, to flesh out her opinions."

"Oh, I am certain I would make a poor friend to her!" Mr. Bingley laughed.

"No no, I must disagree, Bingley. For often she likes it best when she simply has a companion to simply listen. Though, I must admit that, at other times, she prefers an adversary to argue against her point." With a chuckle, Mr. Lucas admitted "I am not very adept at discerning when she prefers the philosopher or the debater."

Darcy mused to himself - what woman had he ever met that could fit such a description? His aunt Lady Fitzwilliam was clever enough to outsmart his uncle. But that was commonly done for her to get her way, not for the joy of debate itself.

"Ah - Miss Elizabeth Bennet is such a jewel!" Sir William Lucas proclaimed. Darcy was certain he had heard this edict before with deaf ears. Now, he found himself in the peculiar situation of agreeing with Sir William.


	5. Chapter 5

The hunting party returned to the great house as twilight wrapped the countryside in a sense of peaceful unity. The men enjoyed the comforts of refreshing themselves in the best of guest rooms, and returned to the drawing room for a brandy before dinner. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley greeted their brother's friends- "Mr. Thompson, Mr. Stokes, Sir Lucas, Mr. Lucas, we are so pleased you joined our brother tonight. I hope your sport was as thrilling as you expected."

"Certainly Caroline! Though, it is no surprise that Mr. Darcy out shot the lot of us combined." Bingley smiled, though his eyes drifted toward the door; his distracted nature was perhaps unnoticed by his visitors, but Mr. Darcy could see the worry in the slight crease of his brow. Miss Bingley nor Mrs. Hurst gave any update as to the health of the invalid, and instead pleasantly spoke with the gentlemen. Mr. Bingley burned to know, and once again internally cursed at the rules of society- how he wished to see Jane himself.

Just as a footman announced dinner was ready, Miss Elizabeth Bennet hurried into the room, embarrassed at her lateness and her unkempt appearance. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst noted her unrefined manner and snickered to each other. Those from Mertyon were too pleased with the graciousness of their host to note any distress in Elizabeth; Mr. Bingley too happy to ask after his angel, and Mr. Darcy too bewitched by her person all together to care.

"Please - forgive my tardiness." Although she may have wished to murmur and shirk back at the glares from the women of the room, she forced her shoulders to relax, her chin to remain high, and her voice to firmly state: "Jane is recovering, but perhaps a bit more slowly than I had hoped. But I can now safely assure you she is comfortable, and on the mend."

Mr. Thompson and Mr. Stokes asked after her sister kindly, and Elizabeth was able to quickly relate her sad, wet story as they entered the dining hall. Sir William sputtered to Miss Bingley, who he was more than happy to accompany into the room. Being ill was the worst way to spend the fall, but Miss Bingley was exceedingly kind and just by allowing Miss Bennet to rest and recover within this grand home.

Miss Elizabeth was pleased to find that next to her sat Mr. Charlie Lucas. With a sigh and a smile she silently thanked him for his quick maneuvering- she was not certasin she could withstand sitting next to Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst. Unfortunately, Mr. Darcy sat across from them, with none but Mr. Hurst for company. Charlie's quick eyes noted the stoic man's darkening brow and burning eyes. What surprised them both was that Mr. Darcy began the conversation as the soup was presented.

"Miss Bennet - please allow me to tell you, I am happy your sister is improving."

Lizzy could only assume he was glad that the two of them would be leaving soon, but bit her lip to prevent from saying so. Instead, with a painted smile and sarcastic eyes, she thanked him kindly.

"We all know you like to be useful, Miss Elizabeth," Charlie quipped after the conversation dropped like a rock. "Caring for you sister has granted you just that."

"Well Charlie, I can say if my sister _must_ be sick, I _can_ find joy in bringing her comfort. But I would much rather be dull and idle than worrying over her well being. For example; I don't push her out into a snow storm just to ensure my usefulness over the winter. I am not so unimaginative that I cannot find fulfillment in other pursuits." She smiled with pressed lips to suppress a laugh at the absurd thought as she enjoyed the warmth of the soup.

Mr. Darcy struggled to join the conversation, though he wished to. With deep eye fixated upon the pair, he continued his meal in silence.

"Oh yes - no one would claim you lack creativity, Miss Lizzy. You are always finding new ways to expand your influence and intelligence. Even if it means concocting a scheme to rebuild a fence or stealing away to an attic to read what is rightly a gentleman's book."

Lizzy flushed at her friend's honest recollection of her _creativity;_ she thought thankfully at least he had kept his voice down. But surely Mr. Darcy had heard, and stocked these assessments as more ammunition against her character. "Mr Lucas!" She seethed quietly, "You apparently cannot be trusted with a lady's secrets. I shall have to remember that next time I seek your company…" She feigned a smile and silently implored him to stop his assassination. Turning to the other gentleman, she said: "Mr. Darcy, do not heed Mr. Lucas - perhaps he had a bit too much fresh air today. Or too many brandies after the fact."

Mr. Darcy chilled at her words, uncertain if she meant what _his_ creative mind was imagining - Mr. Lucas and Miss Elizabeth embracing in a way he desperately wished to. "As you wish," he icily intoned, working to control his foolish thoughts.

The rest of dinner, Mr. Lucas and Miss Bennet discussed news from their families and their neighbors, as they had not seen each other for some time. Mr. Lucas often glanced to Mr. Darcy, trying to discern if he had any interest in joining the discussion. But more often than not, Charlie found him gazing at Lizzy with a look of longing interest. Charlie discerned that Mr. Darcy was more than happy to enjoy their conversation by listening and not joining.

Lizzy was oblivious to this, and instead interrupted Mr. Darcy's long looks as glares; which continued to vindicate her opinions of the stiff, sour man. Dinner ended and Lizzy excused herself during the separation of the sexes to check upon her sister again. In all reality, after such a pleasant dinner, she couldn't bare to be alone with the Bingley sisters. Checking in on her sister took all of a few moments; Jane rested easier than she had in two nights. Sighing in the door frame, she was certain she should not enter the room, for fear of disturbing her sister.

With light steps, she slowly walked back toward the main part of the house. She took her time, stopping at any and every piece of art adorning a wall or a pedestal. She considered them quietly, looking at every detail she could find. She would delay as long as possible to avoid those women who found her company so dull.

* * *

Mr. Bingley implored his visitors "The night is young! There is no need for you to depart!"

But the elder men bid their goodbyes, save one.

"Father, I will indulge Mr. Bingley and keep his company tonight, if you will leave me a horse. I am capable of a midnight ride - the moon is full."

"Capital, Capital, son! You young men are due your fun without us old birds. Goodnight." Sir William smiled jovially and bid them a festive night.

Bingley grinned as he shook the young man's hand. "Excellent Lucas! Darcy - what do you say to a round of billiards before we join the ladies?"

Mr. Lucas nodded, "Yes, Mr. Darcy, you have bested us with a shotgun. Now let us admire your excellent aim with a cue."

Mr. Darcy bowed in agreement. Mr. Hurst was invited, but he kept to the dining hall with his cigars, more pleased with the smoke and brandy than with the notion of losing yet another game to Mr. Darcy. With a fresh glasses of brandy which all three men would simply sip, as none were prone to overindulgence, the game began in the masculine billiards room.

"So, Bingley; at the end of an evening, after enjoying the sport and the wildlife and the company of Hertfordshire, do you believe you made a fair decision on your rental of Netherfield? I am certain you had many choices available to you."

"Certainly, Lucas! It is a lovely countryside, don't you agree Darcy?"

"The land does have a wilderness that, while tamer than Derbyshire, is not without its pleasures." Darcy admitted, as he lined up a shot. With a sharp crack of the cue, another ball was sunk into his planned pocket, and he smiled as stalked the table to determine his next shot.

Charlie nodded. "Although I have not visited Derbyshire, I have heard of its beauty."

Bingley added, "My sisters would have me purchase in _that_ county, but I cannot see why."

"Can you not?" Charlie questioned with a straight mouth, but eyes that twinkled with the mirth of an unspoken joke. He and Darcy met each other's gaze, and Mr. Lucas lifted his eyebrows, as if asking Darcy if _he_ could imagine why. Darcy grumbled and tried focused on his shot, but the thought of Miss Bingley bringing her annoying fussing to his perfect estate was too distracting. He pulled back too vigorously, and hit the cue ball at the wrong angle, missing his intended target. With a frown, he left the table for Mr. Lucas to move on to his opportunity.

"No - I simply cannot! Neither them, enjoy nature in the slightest! Especially Caroline, yet she protests the loudest of all. Netherfield is such an easy journey to London - I expected they would be pleased that they could return to ton in such an easy journey... Now, I could image a woman like Miss Elizabeth to insist on settling in Derbyshire, with all her walking. But never Caroline!"

Darcy shot a glance at Bingley, trying to interrupt his friend's comments. Did he suspect? No- Charles hadn't the subtlety or tact to question his opinion of Miss Elizabeth in such an expert manner. But did Mr. Lucas have the finesse to control the conversation thus?

"What do you think, Mr. Darcy? Would Miss Elizabeth enjoy that countryside? You are the _expert_ on Derbyshire?" Mr. Lucas' statement was so calm, so collected. He didn't flinch as he made an effortless shot. Did he know such a question made Darcy squirm?

Without flourish, Mr. Lucas effortlessly made another shot, and continued to the other side of the table as Darcy barked back, "But _you_ are the expert on Miss Elizabeth, are you not, Mr. Lucas?"

With a short chuckle, the plain man smiled, "I am not certain that such a master exists… Drat." He missed his shot, but did not appear nettled. In fact, Darcy wondered if the gentleman had missed on purpose. Without the competitiveness of a younger man, he called Bingley to the table to make the most of his mistake; which Mr. Bingley did with more enthusiasm than strictly proper. "Cheers!" Bingley grinned as he finished his drink after sinking the last ball into the pocket. "Let us rejoin the ladies. We must move quickly, Lucas, else Darcy will insist on a rematch, as he is loath to lose."

* * *

When Lizzy finally returned to the drawing room, she found most of the visitors had left for the night - but Charlie had stayed. She smiled warmly, and made her way to sit beside him. He sat with a small book, and she slowly worked with a piece of embroidery that had made the journey in her trunk. Mr. Bingley and Mr. Hurst played a game a piquet, while Mrs. Hurst watched. Mr. Darcy worked again at the small desk with a piece of paper, where Miss Bingley crooned over him and begged to mend his pen.

After a set of small stitches, Lizzy discretely asked her friend, "Have you enjoyed your outing? I cannot decide what the mood must have been while you hunted down those poor birds. Was Mr. Bingley's amiability bright enough to outshine Mr. Darcy's dour disposition."

"Come now, Lizzy. Just because _you_ find Mr. Darcy unpleasant does not mean _everyone_ else does," he whispered in returned, although his eyes did not leave his pages.

"Blasphemy!" Lizzy teased. Her attention was pulled from her friend when she heard Mr. Bingley insist that Caroline was very wrong in her impression of Mr. Darcy:

 _Pride and Prejudice - Chapter 10_

"He does _not_ write with ease. He studies too much for words of four syllables. Do not you, Darcy?"

"My style of writing is very different from yours." Mr. Darcy admitted, sounding like he wished to avoid an argument. Lizzy could not help but catalog this perceptive ploy. If it had not been for Miss Bingley, that would have ended the conversation quite soundly. Lizzy could not decide if it was tactful or prideful.

"Oh! Charles writes in the most careless way imaginable - he leaves out half his words, and blots the rest." Miss Bingley stated, her annoyance covered in a sickly sweet smile.

"My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them - by which means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents."

"You humility, Mr. Bingley, must disarm reproof." Elizabeth noted. Charlie exchanged a glance between Mr. Bingley and Lizzy, understanding Elizabeth's positive impression of Mr. Bingley, though his own opinion was perhaps a bit different than hers.

"Nothing is more deceitful," said Darcy, "than the appearance of humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an indirect boast."

Mr. Bingley baffled and asked his friend with a chuckle, "And which of the two do you call _my_ little recent piece of modesty?"

"The indirect boast; for you are really proud of your defects in writing, because you consider them as proceeding from a rapidity of thought and carelessness of execution, which, if not estimable, you think at least highly interesting. The power of doing anything with quickness is always prized much by the possessor, and often without any attention to the imperfection of the performance. When you told Mrs. Bennet this morning that if you ever resolved upon quitting Netherfield you should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort of panegyric, of compliment to yourself - and yet what is there so very laudable in a precipitate which must leave very necessary business undone, and can be of no real advantage to yourself or anyone else?"

"Nay!" cried Mr. Bingley, "this is too much, to remember at night all the foolish things that were said in the morning. And yet, upon my honor, I believe what I said of myself to be true, and I believe it at this moment."

"I dare say you believed it; but I am by no means convinced that you could be gone with such celerity. Your conduct would be quite as dependent on chance as that of any man I know; and if, as you were mounting your horse, Mr. Lucas here were to say, 'Bingley, you had better stay till next week,' you would probably do it."

"You have only proved by this," cried Elizabeth, "that Mr. Bingley did not do justice to his own disposition. You have shown him off now much more than he did himself."

"I am exceedingly gratified," said Mr. Bingley, "by your converting what my friend says into a compliment on the sweetness of my temper. But I am afraid you are giving it a turn which Mr. Darcy did by no means intend; for he would certainly think better of me, if under such a circumstance I were to give a flat denial, and ride off as fast as I could." How Mr. Bingley spoke with such happiness surprised Elizabeth, and she noted this as yet another positive trait that well matched her sister.

With a short laugh to cloak her irritation at Mr. Darcy, Lizzy asked, "Would that gentleman then consider the rashness of your original intentions as atone for by your obstinacy in adhering to it?" She was determined to continue the conversation.

Bingley looked to Darcy, and gestured for him to answer the lady.

"I have never acknowledged such an opinion, but allowing the case to stand according to your representative, you must remember, Miss Bennet, that the friend who is supposed to desire his return and delay of his plan, has merely desired it, asked it without offering one argument in favour of its propriety."

"To yield readily - easily- to the _persuasion_ of a friend is no merits with you," Elizabeth declared.

"To yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding of either," Mr. Darcy retorted back.

Elizabeth would not allow him to have the last comment, and continued forward: "You appear to me, Mr. Darcy, to allow nothing for the influence of friendship and affection. A regard for the requester would often make one readily yield to a request, without waiting for arguments to reason one into it. Should you think I'll of a person for complying with the desire of a friend, without waiting to be argued into it?" She stole a glance to Charlie, whom she believed would agree with her.

"Will it not be advisable, before we proceed on this subject, to arrange with rather more precision the degree of importance of the plan and the intimacy subsisting between the parties?" Charlie asked with a smirk, happy to stoke the flames of the discussion, while also calling out the absurdity of it.

"By all means!" cried Mr. Bingley with a fair share of exasperation in his infection; "let us hear all the particulars, not forgetting their comparative height and size; for that will have more weight in the argument, Miss Bennet, than you may be aware of. I assure you, that if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow, in comparison with myself, I should not pay him half so much deference." Mr. Darcy smiled, though Elizabeth believed it to be an act to cover his offence. Miss Bingley scolded her brother for such a silly statement.

"I see your design, Bingley; you dislike an argument, and want to silence this."

"Perhaps I do. Arguments are too much like disputes. IF you and Miss Bennet will defer yours till I am out of the room, I shall be very thankful; and then you may say whatever you like of me."

Mr. Lucas decided to waylay the conversation, and requested that Miss Bingley indulge them in some music. Miss Bingley played with excellent technique and Mrs. Hurst sang with a fine soprano. Charlie had insisted that Elizabeth play later in the evening; Lizzy perused the music books while noticing that Mr. Darcy's gaze seemed to be fixated upon her. She could not imagine herself to be an object of admiration to so great a man; but to suppose he would chose to look upon her because he disliked her was still more strange. She finally decided upon a piece of music and determined that she was reprehensible to his ideas of right, and he looked at her with a sense of shock. She liked him too little to care for his approbation.

After Lizzy had her chance to play, which Miss Bingley was pleased to find below her own standards, the fine lady returned to the piano to prove she could even make a simple Scottish reel more enticing than Miss Elizabeth.

Mr. Darcy would have agreed that Miss Bingley's playing was technically superior; yet he found Miss Bennet's playing far more emotive and pleasing. Surprising himself with the thought that he would love to dance with her, he rose and asked her to do just that. When she made no reply, he asked again: "Do you not feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?"

"You wanted me, I know, to say 'Yes,' that you might have the pleasure of despising my taste; but I always delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and cheating a person of their premeditated contempt. I have, therefore, made up my mind to tell you, that I do not want to dance a reel at all - and now despise me if you dare." She grinned a saucy smile that she fully expected to affront him.

"Indeed, I do not dare," he answered with a straight face but twinkling eyes. There was a mixture of sweetness and archness in her manner which made it impossible to disapprove of her.

Mr. Lucas joined the two, catching the end of their conversation and being yet again surprised at Mr. Darcy's marked interest in his friend. "Lizzy does have a way of cowing even the mightiest of persons. Do not despair, Mr. Darcy - you are not the first man she has strong-armed. And I am certain you will not be the last."

"Charlie -" she smirked, but he interrupted her defense.

"No Lizzy - you have no chance of exoneration; you showed your hand earlier tonight - I am sure Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst shall not forget your wild assignation of Mr. Darcy's opinions. I will say it again, you are fearless and will harass anyone foolish enough to engage you." With that assessment, and the completion of Miss Bingley's song, he turned to Mr. Bingley and thanked him for the pleasant evening. "Good night; thank you again for extending your kindness. Good night, Miss Elizabeth - please relay to Miss Bennet my hopes for a speedy recovery." With a formal bow, Mr. Lucas left Netherfield, and Mr. Darcy wondered if he was any the wiser.


	6. Chapter 6

"Lizzy - whatever is the matter? I am faring far better than before; if it is truly so dreadful you can return home. I am certain I shall follow in just a few days."

"No, no Jane! It is not _so_ dreadful that I cannot bare it for you. I'm not sure there exists an obstacle that would keep me from caring for you." Lizzy smiled warmly at her sister, who was now capable of sitting up in bed and staying awake for hours at a time. Her brow furrowed again, as she conceded to Jane her agitated thoughts: "No… I was only thinking on a few things Charlie and I have discussed; and I have since made my own observations."

Jane waited expectantly, with a serene yet curious look.

"It is about Mr. Bingley …" Elizabeth started. She was hesitant, which was uncommon. Her opinions were typically formed with such confidence. But, over the hours Jane spent asleep that morning, Lizzy had attended to her investigation of Mr. Bingley's character with considerable attention. Charlie had questioned her _superior_ judgement, and Elizabeth found that her original picture of Mr. Bingley was not as perfect as she had hoped.

"Do not mistake me, Jane! My certainty of his love for you is as strong as it has ever been! He awaits my reports of your condition with _such_ interest. And his character; I am convinced you are both of such happy and well-matched dispositions that you shall only argue over who is more in love."

Jane blushed and smiled softly, as her eyes looked down at her interwoven fingers. "And yet?" She questioned her sister, her eyes peeking over her demure lashes.

"And yet, Charlie, and now I, question his confidence of determination. He is very humble, but that allows his decisions to be swayed by the wishes of others. He is even self-aware of this trait in a few spirited discussions during my stay. I am not sure I should call it a flaw … I have decided it might displease me; but I am not certain it will disturb you."

"Lizzy, I am afraid you are not being entirely clear, sister. He is not confident enough? He is too humble?"

"Perhaps Charlie put it better: Mr. Bingley is not a man of unshakable convictions or resolute ideas. He has admitted _himself,_ he is susceptible to the opinions of others, and no plan is so determined that it cannot be changed."

Jane hesitantly admitted, "I do _not_ believe this is a flaw at all."

Lizzy sighed, and allowed her confused look to smooth to a gaze of affection. "That is what I thought you would say, which is why this is so difficult for me! After being in Mr. Bingley's company the last few evenings, I wanted to ensure you were mindful of this part of his character. And perhaps … advise you to be more candid with him about your feelings." Elizabeth struggled with this decision, but she could not get Charlie's advise out of her head. And after the last few days, she could only imagine what pernicious advice Mr. Bingley received from his friend and family. "You must know, he is constantly surrounded by the opinions of others. It is important he knows _your_ opinion of him, not his sisters' opinions or his friend's opinion. Charlie is worried that he is the sort of man who thrives on pleasing others; I know - again! This is not a fault! But it cannot hurt to let him know that his interest in you pleases _you_ …"

Jane sat thoughtfully. "Elizabeth, I think you, and our friend Mr. Lucas, are correct in your assessment of Mr. Bingley's character. But what you advise implies that Mr. Bingley is receiving negative opinions from his sisters and Mr. Darcy." Jane began to shrink back into the bed. "Should we not trust _their_ judgement of his nature and his desires? Perhaps I am not the right choice for him."

Lizzy sat on Jane's bed, feeling the rage of indignation bubble through her blood. "Jane!" She admonished. "At this moment, you must seek _your own_ happiness. Do you believe you would be happy with Mr. Bingley?"

Jane looked away from her sister, but agreed with a slight nod of her head.

"Then all I suggest is you allow Mr. Bingley to know that. You are so perfect, so well mannered, that I am certain you shall do so in a way which will not offend him. Then _Mr. Bingley_ will need to consider _his own_ happiness, and decide who he wishes to please more - his family, or himself and his beloved."

Jane let out a great sigh, and admitted to her sister then that she had become quite tired.

"Rest well, sister- and perhaps you shall be well enough to join us after dinner. If you are feeling up to it, I shall ensure you are comfortable downstairs." With a quick affectionate kiss on the side of her sisters forehead, Lizzy said goodnight, and hoped she had done the right thing.

* * *

Mr. Darcy was no longer surprised that his fascination for Miss Elizabeth Bennet was not dampened by their dispute or by her refusal to dance. Instead, he found himself walking about the grounds with the chattering Miss Bingley and very aware of how much he preferred Miss Elizabeth Bennet's company to any other woman's he had met. Miss Bingley tried to raise his ire by speaking about that woman's dreadful relations and reckless behavior; Mr. Darcy listened enough to respond with appropriately bland answers. But most his thoughts were trapped up with his dilemma; he was captivated by her manners, her intelligence, and her bewitching eyes. Darcy scowled as he reflected on his observations of Mr. Charles Lucas.

He was an enigma to Darcy. Mr. Lucas was certainly old enough to marry Miss Elizabeth if he was interested. Being old family friends, Darcy could think of no obstacle that would keep Mr. Lucas from his goal. Remembering their time in the billiards room, he ground his teeth with frustration. Mr. Lucas had so calmly and slyly made his blood boil, suggesting _he_ would know Miss Elizabeth's opinions of Derbyshire. Darcy was almost ashamed that he had, in fact, pondered her feelings for his homeland. It provided him great distraction and enjoyment in the dead of night. His imagination ran wild when he found himself between consciousness and dream; she walked in the mist from the pond to the gardens at Pemberley. He would find her as he had seen her that day she arrived at Netherfield- like a faery, an illusion of grace mixed up with mischief. Darcy contained his groan as Miss Bingley laughed, assuming his tense nature was due to her ingenious teasing. "Really, Mr. Darcy - you must hang her uncle's portrait in the main hall, and you must never allow her likeness to be taken. Surely they would never do justice in capturing her _fine_ _eyes."_

"Although the expression would be difficult, the shape and color could be depicted."

At that moment, Miss Elizabeth and Mrs. Hurst met them on a conjoining path, and Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy found themselves blushing with fear that the subject of their discussion had found them out. Luckily, Miss Elizabeth had not been attending to their or Mrs. Hurst's discussion, and was none the wiser. Mrs. Hurst quickly left her inattentive companion, and positioned herself upon Mr. Darcy's unaccompanied arm. Mr. Darcy felt their rudeness, as the path was not wide enough for more than three. "This walk cannot hold our party; we had better go into the avenue." He darkly commanded, while the ladies upon either arm sighed with unhappiness.

"No, no;" Lizzy protested. "You are charmingly grouped, and appear to uncommon advantage. I will not spoil your happy party."

"Please, Miss Bennet - _you_ are the great walker amongst us, we would not drive you away from your favorite pastime." Mr. Darcy implored.

Lizzy was surprised at the man's request, but quickly decided he was simply tired of the bothersome company of Miss Bingley. It would grate upon even a saint's patience; and Mr. Darcy was decidedly no saint.

"Mr. Darcy, it seems you have found me out. I will leave you three not because of your picturesque beauty, but instead because of your _speed._ As you noted, I am a great walker, and I find I would prefer to move about at a quicker pace. Please forgive my rudeness ladies, but he has pulled the absolute truth from me.

With that, Elizabeth gave a curtsy and turned back on the path that had delivered her to the spot; she indeed walked at a faster clip, at her own leisure. Mr. Darcy frowned as he watched her disappear from sight, and rallied his politeness for the remainder of the stroll. It dawned on Darcy that he had yet to apologize for his tasteless comment at the assembly. He suddenly wished she _had_ heard his and Miss Bingley's comments on her fine eyes.

* * *

Bingley ate with the speed of a starving mutt loose on the streets of London. Elizabeth had commented before dinner that if all went according to plan, she would be able to deliver her sister from her chambers after their meal for a visit. She was certain no matter how lovely the room was, even her gentle sister must be tired of looking at the same four walls. As such, Bingley could hardly contain his excitement. He enthusiastically instructed his sister to bring blankets and pillows to the drawing room to ensure their patient's comfort. His entire person seemed to buzz with energy, and Lizzy kept a laugh contained as she witnessed his fingers impatiently tapping the table.

"With such a small party - certainly we do not need to separate tonight. You do not mind, Darcy- eh?" He did not even bother to ask his brother-in-law, who was frowning at the thought of missing his glass of port.

"I am at your leisure, Bingley," Darcy stoically replied. Elizabeth once again questioned how it was possible the two ever became friends. As the last of the meal was cleared, Bingley shot from his chair and confidently led the party into the adjoining drawing room. He called a footman and asked for more wood to be brought for the fire. Lizzy pressed her lips together to keep from smiling too broadly, and quietly told the party: "If all is well, I will return shortly with my sister."

Elizabeth found that, indeed, Jane had rested well over the afternoon and was ready for a change of scenery. "You must be most pleased to quit that room!" Lizzy laughed as they slowly walked down the hall and made their way to the public rooms. Lizzy would not permit Jane to walk without resting some weight upon her arm. Jane laughed softly at her sister's teasing. "Lizzy, I must admit I am quite frightened."

"Frightened!" Lizzy stopped mid step and pulled her sister back. "Jane- if you are too tired or too ill to enjoy our hosts, do not push yourself to do so!"

"No, No Lizzy - you mistake my meaning. My nerves … Well -" Jane struggled to put voice to her thoughts. With a great sigh, she tried again: "It is just … I have never shared my personal sentiments with a man I esteem. Indeed - I find I've never liked a man as much as I do Mr. Bingley - and the thought of expressing that…" Jane did not finish her sentence, but she did not need to. Her sister pulled her into a quick hug, squeezing her tight.

"Jane - if you believe it is against your character to share with Mr. Bingley, then perhaps you should wait."

"No- no, I shan't give way to that easy rationalization. Because, well - when I think of the alternative… I am more fearful of that. I shall be discreet but honest. Mr. Bingley deserves to know he is admired."

Lizzy held onto her sister tightly, and whispered, "Well then, I have enough impertinence to share. Simply borrow some of mine tonight." With a twinkle in her eye, she continued their walk to the room, firmly holding her sister, strengthening her without words to be brave.

* * *

Once Jane entered the room, she smiled softly with great doe eyes. She felt all the honor she should as she understood that Mr. Bingley had prepared a place for her at the far side of the room, away from the door and in front of a roaring fire. He beamed with joy at seeing her out of bed, and told her so.

"Come now - let me take you to this settee I have prepared for you. The fire will keep you warm. Your sister has had the pleasure of seeing to your comfort- I must relieve her of her duties, if only for a few hours."

Jane allowed her typical serenity to be overthrown with a blush of her cheeks, as she quietly thanked Mr. Bingley and left her sister's side. Mr. Bingley enjoyed the work of fussing over her, and ensuring she was as comfortable as possible. He then implored her to share with him how she found her quarters, and how her illness had progressed.

After tea had been poured and enjoyed, Lizzy smiled warmly at the pair, and was happy to leave them to themselves. She crossed the room and found a book of poetry she had browsed earlier in the week, and took up the endeavor again.

 _Pride & Prejudice- Chapter 11_

Miss Bingley was perched near Mr. Darcy, claiming to be reading. Yet her attention was quite as much engaged watching Mr. Darcy make progress in _his_ book, as in reading her own. She was constantly noting some interesting word selection on his page, or inquiring about some passage in her own book. She was ravenous to hear his opinion; she was helpless without his understanding; she was wishful for his uncommonly quick comprehension. Mr. Darcy was silent to all these requests, and merely read on.

When her many attempts to distract Mr. Darcy fell short, she then submitted her pride and asked Elizabeth: "Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude."

Elizabeth was surprised but agreed immediately. She would do anything to ensure her sister and Mr. Bingley were allotted as much time as possible in each others' exclusive company. Miss Bingley then accomplished her goal; for as soon as Elizabeth stood beside her, Mr. Darcy casually gazed upon the pair and unknowingly closed his book. Miss Bingley did her best to keep from seething, and could only hope that with the direct comparison, Mr. Darcy could see the great superiority of her figure. After declining to join their party, noting he would interfere with either purpose of their walking, Miss Bingley insisted that he explain himself.

"You either choose this method of passing the evening because you are in each other's confidence, and have secret affairs to discuss, or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking; if the first, I would be completely in your way, and if the second, I can admire you much better as I sit here."

"Oh! Socking!" Cried Miss Bingley. "I never heard anything so abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?" Although she spoke of disapproval, Elizabeth could hear nothing but joy in her voice.

"Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination," Elizabeth said. "Tease him- laugh at him. Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done."

"But upon my honor, I do _not._ I do assure you that my intimacy has not yet taught me _that._ Tease calmness of manner and presence of mind! No, no- we shall not laugh without a subject."

"Mr. Darcy is not be be laughed at!" Cried Elizabeth. "That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to _me_ to have such acquaintances. I dearly love a laugh."

Mr. Darcy philosophically noted: "The wisest and the best of men- nay, the wisest and best of their actions- may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke."

"Certainly," replied Elizabeth, "there are such people, but I hope I am not one of _them._ I hope I never ridicule what is wise and good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, _do_ divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without." Elizabeth was certain that Mr. Darcy would agree with her statement, and was somewhat surprised when he replied:

"That is no possible for anyone." After a moment, he could not help but defend himself. "But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule."

"Such as vanity and pride." Elizabeth declared. She thought him both very vain and very proud in that moment.

"Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride- where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation.

Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile, and happened to catch Mr. Bingley's eye. "Are you now examining Darcy's character, Miss Elizabeth? Pray what is the result!" Bingley laughed.

"I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise."

"No," Mr. Darcy said, rising to his feet. "I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others as soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever." Throughout this speech, he made his way to her, his eyes penetrating her with such a look unhappiness. It seemed admitting such faults brought upon personal examples for him to remember, and his displeasure showed.

" _That_ is a failing indeed." Elizabeth spoke, not allowing his stalking to dishearten her. "But you have chosen you fault well. I really cannot _laugh_ at it." She tried to cut the intensity of their discussion with a pert smile: "You are safe from me."

But _he_ was not willing to give up on the conversation, and continued: "There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil - a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome."

"And _your_ defect is to hate everybody."

"And yours," he replied with a smile, "Is willfully to misunderstand them…"

Mr. Bingley could have it no longer, and stood from his angel and called, "Come now, both of you are tending toward argument again!"

Lizzy felt her chest heave up and down; their argument had become heated; she somehow tore her gaze from his, and turned to Mr. Bingley with an awkward laugh. "You have caught us again, Mr. Bingley. It seems I cannot keep myself under your regulations. It is most uncivil of me as your guest."

Mr. Bingley smiled and turned to Jane, and admitted: "It is true I had requested they abstain from combating as we have just witnessed. Let it be noted, Miss Elizabeth! I will add this to _my_ study of _your_ character. Mr. Lucas has already armed me with an arsenal of intelligence."

"Oh-ho! Mr. Bingley, I must beg you to ignore that man's information," she laughed. "It will certainly be biased by my long history with him. Indeed, he has probably told you my favorite past times are hunting for pirates and climbing trees!"

"Well, you shall not find out until I have completed my inspection." Mr. Bingley was glad to diffuse the air of the room from fizzing with fervor. "Caroline, will you not play for me and Miss Bennet. We were both saying how much we would enjoy an aria."

Lizzy watched the stiff Caroline move from her and Mr. Darcy to the piano. When Elizabeth turned back to her sparring partner, she found he still stood closer than wholly proper. His dark eyes still sparked with the passion of their conversation, and his lips twitched with the smile he had shared. "Miss Bennet …" He quietly started, taking one more step toward her. Elizabeth felt her cheeks flush and her heart flutter again.

"Mr. Darcy - I think we have opposed each other enough for one night." With a quick curtsy, she left him standing there, and moved to her sister's side. Lizzy hoped Jane had shared her thoughts with Mr. Bingley; for now Lizzy would invade their privacy. _She_ needed to borrow her sister's serenity for the remainder of the evening.


	7. Chapter 7

The following day, Lizzy and Jane conferred about their return home to Longbourn. Jane could tell that Elizabeth was anxious to return; her sister's well of patience was running dry.

"You are certain you are well enough to travel, Jane?" Elizabeth asked as she brushed her sister's long golden hair, in preparation for a fresh braid.

"Yes, Lizzy." Jane stated for the third time.

"Well- if you are convinced, I will rejoice at this news; and not just for your health. For I am sick of Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley, and am quite prepared to never claim their conversation again."

"Lizzy, they have been very kind to us." Jane admonished.

"Kind to _you_ , true. But to _me_ \- did you not attend to Mr. Darcy's wretched conversation last night? But no, why would you." Lizzy teased. "I am sure your conference with Mr. Bingley was _much_ more pleasant. So, I will not hold it against you that you are ignorant of Mr. Darcy's abominable pride. I suppose it is for the best, since my behavior was, perhaps, not as becoming as you believe fitting of me. So neither Mr. Darcy or myself will lose an ounce of your esteem. There!" Her braiding was finished, and while it was not as beautiful as when completed by her sister Kitty, Elizabeth found it serviceable.

A short missive was sent to their home, requesting that the carriage be sent over the course of the day, but Mrs. Bennet responded that the horses certainly could not be spared, and that Jane was encouraged to take as much time as she needed to be completely well before returning. The sisters then requested the Bingley carriage of their hosts to return them home. When Mr. Bingley caught wind of the plan, as he happened upon Lizzy and Caroline in the morning room, he was insistent that the Bennet sisters wait one more day. They would gladly bring them to Sunday services, and there they could rejoin their family. And so it would be.

* * *

The skies threatened rain, which forced Lizzy inside for the day. Her sister no longer required constant rest, and with their departure scheduled, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst attended to Jane. Elizabeth had tired of the company of those sisters, so she retreated to the library in search of distraction.

Her body was filled with a restless energy to return home, so she spent her first twenty minutes in the room pacing, hoping to expel some of her disquiet. When she had walked enough to relieve a fraction of her anxiety, she searched for a book capable of holding her attention. She felt too disheartened to read poetry, and instead pulled a book on livestock varieties from the shelves. Perhaps she could find some recommendations for Mr. Richard's struggling Ryeland flock. Pleased with her selection, she situated herself on a chair, tucking her feet underneath her in the most unladylike fashion.

After an hour of reading, the door to the library was opened, and in came Mr. Darcy. Silently, he stiffly bowed and quickly moved to the shelves in search of some volume. Elizabeth politely nodded to him from her comfortable position, and took no action to appear more decorous. She cared too little for his opinion, and found herself pleased to dismay him with her _salacious_ manners.

Mr. Darcy had come to the library in search of his own distraction from his thoughts of Miss Elizabeth, and instead found her lounging about like a cat with cream. He swore to himself as he looked for a book, whispering he should have chanced the rain and gone for a ride. But now that he was within her view, the spell had been cast and he was stranded in her company. He frowned, as he found nothing to his taste upon the shelves. If Bingley had not been such a dear friend already, he might have been disappointed in the owners collection. Grabbing a small volume of poetry from his coat, he slowly walked to another chair opposite Miss Bennet, and sat stiffly there.

Lizzy peered over her pages, watching his rigid demeanor and quietly inspecting his small pocket book. When squinting, she could see the author "Byron" written across the cover. She could not help but lurch back into the plush seat with surprise. This was _far_ more romantic reading than she would have expected from such a detached man. Indeed, Lord Byron was considered scandalous to many! It certainly clashed with his character as she had painted it. She returned to her pages, and forced her own interest in the text. She reminded herself: she was _not_ surprised that he had not _graced_ her with even the slightest of polite conversation as of yet. That thought helped assure her of powers of perception and understanding of character. This skill had already been shaken by her reassessment of Mr. Bingley; she simply could not be stretched to believe her opinion of Mr. Darcy was also flawed.

Darcy tried his best to keep his eyes upon the page of his book, but he could not keep his eyes from traveling to Miss Bennet's lovely face as she read her book. Her eyebrows would quirk, her lips would frown, her eyes would squint. Every sentence garnered some small reaction displayed across her features. After a few moments, he would admonish himself and return to his poem, only to find himself re-reading the same stanza:

I hate you, ye cold compositions of art!  
Though prudes may condemn me, and bigots reprove,  
I court the effusions that spring from the heart,  
Which throbs with delight to the first kiss of love.

And then the words would cause him pause, and his gaze would creep up to her lips, and then he would be caught in her enchanting charm again. And then a self reproof, returning his eyes to the pages, and then again and again.

Lizzy felt his gaze upon her several times over the course of a half hour, but she would not be goaded. This room was her only means of escape, and she was not willing to retreat.

After the sixth time reading the beguiling poem, Darcy finally admitted his defeat, and abandoned his reading. Closing the small volume, he dared conversation with her. "Miss Bennet, I must inquire what you are reading. I have observed it has you quite enthralled. What subject has intrigued you thus?"

Lizzy fought the urge to glare at him, for she assumed sarcasm from his tone. Instead, she kept her eyes glued to the page, though she could not continue reading. "If I answer you honestly, I fear I shall shock you and further disparage myself in your estimation," she nonchalantly said. "You cannot ask me to invite your scorn."

"Come now, Miss Bennet. I do not believe Mr. Bingley has such a book in his inventory." Darcy replied, quietly relishing in her teasing manner.

"Livestock."

"What?" Darcy frowned, not following her reply.

"Livestock, Mr. Darcy. My book is on new methods in improving yields in livestock."

"Well." Mr. Darcy faltered, "That was certainly _not_ what I was expecting from such a preamble. But I suppose some might find it unseemly for a lady to read about such topics."

"Like Miss Bingley…" Lizzy could not hold her tongue, though she still kept her gaze upon the volume.

"But _not_ me _._ Miss Bennet - I thought I had made myself clear. A woman who values the improvement of her mind through extensive reading should never be ridiculed."

This speech did break her resolve, and her eyes darted up to find his gaze fully upon her face. It seemed as if he was not just looking at her, but that he was _seeing_ her. _Knowing_ her. She felt a shiver tingle from her toes to the back of her neck. She struggled to respond, "I … I suppose you did say that. Though … You … You did not quantify that the proficiencies could include farming." His scrutiny upon her rattled her brain and tied her tongue. She felt sluggish and exposed. She suddenly became very aware how very alone they were in the room.

After a few moments of silence, eyes locked in a slightly uncomfortable manner, Mr. Darcy felt the moment slipping away. He determined now was as good a time as ever to right his injustice. "Miss Bennet, I do not wish to …" He could not force himself to utter the words - _raise your expectations._ Perhaps he _did_ wish to peak her interest to his attention. She had misinterpreted his words before. "I just… I feel I must beg your forgiveness for my loathsome, erroneous words that night at the assembly. I was appalled when I understood that you had heard that misguided statement. I cannot excuse my behavior, and can only hope in your happy attitude, you can absolve an _unhappy_ man." Throughout this stilted speech, his cold tone warmed to something much more sad than commanding. Indeed, he was asking her, _begging_ her.

Lizzy thought she was shocked before: now the turn of their conversation rendered her utterly awed. To think that Mr. Darcy would _beg_ anyone, let alone _her!_ She parted her lips as her eyebrows furrowed, and her thoughts poured out of her mouth like drizzle from a cloud. "You … _You_ , whose good opinion once lost is irreparable, are asking _me_ to forgive you for awful, painful words which embarrassed me to my entire community."

He fought his initial surprise to her response. If it had been anyone else, he would have expected forgiveness immediately. But Miss Elizabeth continued to reaffirm her resolute ways. He felt further chastised and guilty at her utterly honest expression of her feelings. But he pushed forward and asked: "An unforgiving nature is _my_ fault. Do you now find you, too, share in this defect?"

With this question turned upon her, Lizzy felt she could no longer remain upon the settee. When she rose, she felt she could no longer remain within the room. She had always found compassion for her fellow man in the past- could she not call upon it for Mr. Darcy? Here eyes filled with a confused gaze finally tore away from his passionate look, as she curtsied and left the room and the confounding Mr. Darcy behind.

Darcy watched her go - question unanswered.

* * *

The evening was uneventful, as Lizzy insisted that Jane rest in order to prepare for their return home upon the following morning. She reminded her dear sister that this was the last night to indulge in the large bed and the quiet atmosphere; for once they returned home peace would be left in the halls of Netherfield.

And although they did return home to the typical chaos of the Bennet household, Lizzy could not mourn the loss of their previous hosts. She had _never_ been so happy to return to the shelter of an understanding, if not fully polite, home. Her father was particularly pleased to see her return, and they two spent a fair amount of time together in his book room over the course of the following week. Although much smaller than Mr. Bingley's library, it was stocked far better. Lizzy lounged in comfort; but at times found her satisfaction broken by the unsettling memory of a pair of dark piercing eyes, shifting from contempt to regret.

One day, her father ushered her from the library and convened the entire family together in the sitting room, and announced to Mrs. Bennet that a guest, Mr. Collins - the future owner of Longbourn, would be joining them for the upcoming weeks. This caused quite the frenzy, as Mrs. Bennet was first convinced the man was coming to inspect his future belongings. Then, after his outlandish letter was read for all to hear, she was placated by the concept of this new prospect for her daughters. Finally, she returned back to her fretting, over what sort of looks the pastor would prefer in a potential wife.

The man joined them at 4 in the afternoon, in exact agreement with his letter. Lizzy was amused at their cousin's pompous yet oblique manners. He highly admired his lovely cousins, the delightful hall, the modest dining room, and the delicious dinner. The abundance of praise led Mrs. Bennet to question his purpose, while Mr. Bennet and Lizzy shared a quiet amusement in his absurd behavior. His extreme deference to his patronage, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and his astute understanding of her better understanding of the world was the topic of constant conversation. There was no subject which was safe from _his_ knowledge of _her_ opinion. As suggested in his letter, he confirmed many times over that he came to Longbourn to put their family unhappiness behind them, and offer peace in the form of marriage. Elizabeth could hardly believe his overt manner, and could only hope she would not be put in the uncomfortable position of declining him and, by extension, her mother.

But - it was not meant to be. Whereas the first few days Mr. Collins doted upon all five sisters, over that morning his attention fell fully upon Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Although he first tended toward Jane, he was discretely set straight by Mrs. Bennet.

"You see, my dear Jane has been called upon by the amiable Mr. Bingley. We are all expecting a very happy occasion in the near future. I beg you not tare her heart in two directions. But my _other_ daughters, I cannot speak of any prior complications."

Mrs. Bennet actually questioned whether her second daughter held an understanding with Charlie Lucas. But to be mistress of Longbourn was a far brighter future than running Lucas Lodge. And, selfishly, Mrs. Bennet could not abide the thought of a lifetime of Mrs. Lucas instructing _her_ daughter. Mr. Collins would provide for Lizzy much better.

The day was fair and the sisters determined to walk to Meryton. Mr. Collins was encouraged by Mr. Bennet to attend to the women, as he was most anxious to be rid of him. His enjoyment of his ridiculous manner did not extend into his beloved book room, which had been invaded the past two days. Mr. Collins was pleased to be of service, and struggled to keep pace with his cousin Elizabeth. He began the walk by describing his very happy home to her, and leaving all manner of hints to his desire for a woman's touch to the cottage. Lizzy gave a tight smile, and answered with as few words as possible, and continued with her quick steps. Mr. Collins would tire and soon trail behind her, only to spurt ahead with a dash of energy. This would bring him back to her side, but his panting would keep him from speaking more than a few sentences. Then he would struggle again and trail back to the foolish younger sisters, only to rest and then call forth another rush of exertion. And so the whole of the walk, Lizzy spent counting the moments before she would leave him behind again.

* * *

Two quick notes:

1- I have returned to work from maternity leave, so I'll be finding a new routine/schedule. I will still try to post once a week.

2- I'm pretty sure that Austen's Darcy wouldn't be caught dead with a pocket book of Byron's poetry. ( _maybe_ Joe Wright's 2005 Darcy would read Byron) But I like to believe Darcy IS a romantic at heart, and in this FF, it works as another clue for Lizzy to puzzle over. The poem quoted is "The First Kiss of Love."


	8. Chapter 8

Lizzy was hopeful that the Longbourn group would happen upon Charlie Lucas in town. Instead, they were graced with the introduction of a different young man. Lydia was currently captivated by a Mr. Denny, who was a young man no more than five and twenty, whose fair looks were transfigured to something quite handsome by the red uniform he wore. Lydia was prepared to call out to him from down the road, but was stifled for a moment; beside her friend was a new man with the look of a fine gentleman.

Kitty questioned her younger sister: "Who is that?" Lydia, even as the youngest, always had the newest gossip.

"Whoever he is, he is the handsomest fellow I've ever seen. Though I won't be swayed by a man without a red coat."

"I will." Kitty giggled.

Mr. Collins struggled to understand what the young pair were babbling on about, and noted that a soldier's life was nothing to that of a parson. Lizzy could not help but roll her eyes as her frustrated cousin. His face had colored to a shade of purple,which did nothing to improve his looks. Jane quietly tried to persuade her younger sisters to be a bit more proper in the streets of town, while Elizabeth did not have the patience her sister did. "Stop gawking," she tersely whispered, as Lydia completely ignored her and waved down Mr. Denny.

"Ladies, Good morning," Mr. Denny smiled and performed a happy bow to the Bennet sisters, and asked after their health. After the typical pleasantries, he turned to his friend and quickly introduced the newest officer of the corps, Mr. George Wickham. The man was tall, with a good figure, and very pleasing address. Lizzy could not help but think he was very handsome, and was especially fond of his gentle smile, which carried all the way to his clear, clever eyes.

Mr. Wickham greeted them all cheerfully, though his eyes perhaps remained upon Lizzy longer than completely proper. She felt her cheeks warm with a rosy glow at his inspection. His smile suggested his pleasure. The group conversed happily for some time, and Mr. Wickham was unceremoniously invited to a gathering at Mr. And Mrs. Phillips' home in a few days time. The Bennet's aunt and uncle were good natured and unlikely to be affronted by the extension.

As their happy conversation continued to flow with ease, Kitty shook her older sister, and fervently whispered: "Jane … Look! It is Mr. Bingley- he's beaming at you." Indeed, that happy man, atop his majestic horse some distance away, was smiling broadly at the sight of Miss Bennet up and on her feet. Jane's face flushed the most becoming shade of pink, as Lizzy quietly pulled her sister Kitty from Jane's arm. Although she would not show it like Kitty, Elizabeth was very pleased to see Mr. Bingley's obvious joy at seeing her sister. Mr. Darcy followed not far behind, playing the part of his friend's antithesis. His dark figure was stern and stoic, while Mr. Bingley quickly dismounted with a spring in his step. He immediately called upon Jane; "How lucky! Just how lucky we are. Miss Bennet-" he bowed politely, "We were just on our way to Longbourn to call upon you there. I felt it my duty to see if you had improved, but I can see you have recovered most fully."

Elizabeth was pleased for her sister as she gave Mr. Bingley a pleasant, if somewhat subdued response; her eyes drifted then to Mr. Darcy, to observe his opinion to Mr. Bingley's interactions. She was then able to watch his countenance change in an instance: his eyes widened and then his face turned red and his entire being became stiff. She was could almost convince herself she could hear him gnash his teeth as he clenched his jaw. Following his gaze, she was surprised to witness Mr. Darcy's wrath was aimed at their new acquaintance. Mr. Wickham's response was just as drastic: his amiable countenance disappeared as his eyes hardened, his face went white, and he stood frozen. After a long moment of prey stuck in the sights of predator, Mr. Wickham seemed to remember their were in public. He broke the stare down and hesitantly tipped his hat to the grave man upon his steed. Lizzy continued to watch, transfixed by the strange encounter. Mr. Darcy did not deign to respond to the greeting, and instead allowed his eyes to dart to her. After a moment under his intense scrutiny, he urged his horse forward, and left his friend and the women behind.

Mr. Bingley was utterly oblivious to the silent confrontation, and was patiently being introduced to the vapid Mr. Collins. Lizzy was overcome by curiosity, but properly kept all her racing questions to herself.

Their visit with their Aunt Phillips was completed with all the typical conversations. Gossip was shared, an invitation to the new handsome, Mr. Wickham was obtained, and the opinions of all the ladies on the newest assortment of ribbons at the shop below were dispersed. Mr. Collins did his best to interject his own astute assessments into every conversation, and regaled Mrs. Phillips with his blessed tale of his appointment to Lady Catherine de Bourgh's parson.

The walk home, Elizabeth forgot her fast pace and instead clung herself to her sister. She ensured her eyes met no others' but Jane's, and quietly spoke to her with her head turned secretly to only her.

"Dear sister - I cannot entertain Mr. Collins for one more second. So I plead you - share with me some secret such that we can avoid his blabbering."

Jane suppressed a smile by pressing her lips together tight, and failed to produce a scolding frown. Both women spent a few moments containing their giggles, and Jane then sighed and looked earnestly to her sister.

"I suppose I can find something to confide in you."

"Thank you!" Lizzy smiled, eyes twinkling with relief. "Perhaps … You can share what Mr. Bingley had to share with you."

Jane demurred, and shared their congenial conversation, with a shy smile and a slight blush upon her cheeks.

Lizzy smiled. "I am glad he continues to be amiable. It sounds your discussion was pleasing, though perhaps a bit bland."

"Lizzy, we were in public. It would not be suitable to say something that actually required a covert conversation."

"I suppose… But a lady can hope for some sort of clandestine, inside encouragement."

"I would not expect such a thing from Mr. Bingley. He is everything that is good and proper."

"I do not know Jane …" Lizzy replied with a sly grin, leaving Jane awaiting her knowledge. With a laugh, she indulged, "The look he gave you when meeting us could not be described as wholly proper. I think you are confusing Mr. Bingley with Mr. Darcy - no one could describe him as anything but formal. Though then again I am not certain he has gained the entirety of the word good."

Jane gasped playfully at her sister's exaggerated jest, which did reduce the young ladies to a burst of laughter that could not be shrouded from the interested of others, and as such their tete-a-tete was dissolved. Mr. Collins insisted on knowing what was so joyous to cause such happiness between the sisters, and his gaze showed special interest in his cousin Elizabeth's response. Elizabeth censured the man, reprimanding him in the severest words she could muster, in hopes of discouraging his attention to her. "Mr. Collins! A gentleman would never demand knowledge of an obviously private discussion between sisters. Do not ask such a thing again." Mr. Collins nearly fell over himself with apologies, and Lizzy did her best to outpace him to avoid any other conversation on the trip home.

* * *

Elizabeth was happy to escape the house and enjoy the early morning sun. The last few days had few delights. Two evenings ago Mr. Collins and the ladies escaped Longbourn to attend Mrs. Phillip's evening party, which was filled with cards and happy company. This had been Elizabeth's one short reprieve from Mr. Collin's attention. She tried her best to avoid his observation, but was constantly thrown into his presence, courtesy of a meddling mother. When she was attended by him, she did her best to be polite but discouraging; and she never tried to convince him with sarcasm or subtext, as he was simply too simple to read beyond her actual words.

The card party had been pleasant enough. Mr. Wickham was the happy man most the ladies vied for his attention, but Elizabeth was the happy woman he first attended. She was flattered by his attention, which did a great deal to restore her self-esteem. With all the officers distracting his lovely cousins, Mr. Collins contented himself to playing whist with Mrs. Phillips.

Elizabeth mused over the conversation between herself and the interesting Mr. Wickham. He was full of shocking stories concerning Mr. Darcy. Lizzy had never guessed that Mr. Darcy could be that bad! But Mr. Wickham's details and manner were so very believable. And who could imagine such an appalling history?

He had confided in her: "The late Mr. Darcy bequeathed me the next presentation of the best living. He was my godfather, and excessively attached to me. I cannot do justice to his kindness. He meant to provide for me amply, and thought he had done it; but when the living fell, it was given elsewhere. I cannot accuse myself of having really done anything to deserve to lose it. I have a warm, unguarded temper, and I may have spoken my opinion of him, and to him, too freely. I can recall nothing worse. But the fact is, that we are very different sort of men, and that he hates me."

"This is quite shocking - too shocking!" She pleaded. Remembering his cold stares and poor manners, Elizabeth was Convinced that they were very different, and she felt compelled to take up Mr. Wickham's injustice. "He deserves to be publicly disgraced." After being convinced to keep this secret, Elizabeth puzzled over the awful behavior. "Whatever could be his motive? What could induce him to behave so cruelly?"

"Well - that is simple, Miss Elizabeth. Jealousy! Had the late Mr. Darcy liked me less, his son might have borne with me better; but his father's uncommon attachment to me irritated him, I believe, very early in life. He does not have a temper to bear the sort of preference which was often given to me."

"I had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this - though I have never liked him. I supposed him to be despising his fellow-creatures in general, but did not suspect him of descending to such malicious revenge, such injustice, such inhumanity as this." After a few moments she recalled Mr. Darcy's words, and felt the need to share. "I do remember his boasingting on day, of implacability of his resentments, of his having an unforgiving temper. How dreadful for you, Mr. Wichkam."

Discussion of Mr. Darcy's ills led to the agreement that pride was his grave sin; even when it produced liberal and generous acts, or led him with a sense of duty, Elizabeth could not forgive the abominable pride which hurt Mr. Wickham, and hurt herself. They then discussed Miss Darcy, as her brother's attentiveness of goodness to her were admitted by their long lost friend.

Mr. Wickham shook his head. "I wish I could call her amiable. It gives me pain to speak ill of a Darcy. But she is too much lie her brother - very, very proud."

Lizzy continued to meander through the fields toward Oakham Mount, as she recollected the total of their conversation. There was not enough to be said for Mr. Darcy's pride. He himself had claimed pride to be a worthy attribute. He could not be blind to the harm he had caused Mr. Wickham - for although she did not like the man she would never call him stupid. And information irked her more - for Mr. Darcy must have been fully aware of the damage done to his long time friend.

She could not make sense of it. And as she lifted her eyes from the ground to the top of the mount, she was very pleased that she would no longer need to journey down that line of reasoning alone.

"Charlie! You, my friend, are just the person I needed to see."

Charles Lucas smiled and assured her he was more than glad to be of service. He had been standing to enjoy the vista beyond the hill, but with a flourish, he offered her a seat upon the grassy land, with the large base of the striking English Oak which guarded the mount. They both rested easy in each other's company.

"Charlie - do you think Mr. Darcy allows his pride to devolve into jealousy?"

Charles Lucas lurched at the unexpected question and cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing slowly as he considered Elizabeth. He could see Mr. Darcy's inner struggle with concerns with Miss Elizabeth Bennet as clear as day. But with Lizzy's firm opinions entrenched by his hard-hearted behavior from the first instance of their acquaintance, he suspected she completely misread his looks. And although she would argue she knew the ways of the world, she was still a maiden.

"I am quite certain he is exceedingly jealous, but I did not think you had the wherewithal to see it, with that thick head of yours."

"Stubborn, I will own, but slow I will not. I am exceedingly shocked by the depth of his contempt. How can you not be so? It is certainly not the way of a gentleman."

"Not gentlemanly, I will agree too - but contemptuous? It is just the opposite!"

"Charlie!" She cried out, eyes wide with shock. "Mr. Wickham has been betrayed most thoroughly, and ,just to appease Mr. Darcy's petty envy."

"Mr. Wickham? What has that to do … Oh, we are certainly speaking of different things. Come now, Lizzy - tell me what that man has told you."

With a look of confusion, Lizzy proceeded to repeat her entire recollection of her conversation with the dashing Mr. Wickham. Charles listened in silence, though Lizzy stopped a few times, awaiting Mr. Lucas' shock and compassion for the man. When it did not come, Elizabeth continued with her story quickly. "He is everything Mr. Darcy is not; it is almost impossible to imagine them as boyhood friends. Mr. Wickham has such an ease in company, and is determined to befriend everyone. And I cannot help but be baffled and maxed by his amazed by his cheerful nature, his determination to continue upon his path to find his own happiness."

Charles did not relish the conversation he felt obliged to pursue. "Lizzy … Elizabeth. I can tell you will struggle with this … But take heart."

"Charles, do not tell me you do not believe him! You were not there, you did not see the truth in his eyes. I did."

"Elizabeth." Charles stated, leveling his gaze upon her, a small frown contorting his lips.

"No Charles. I cannot believe that a man would dream up, would create such a wretched story. I am sure Mr. Darcy did the dastardly deed. What I cannot decide is if jealousy is what drove him."

With a sigh, Charles Lucas pulled his thin lanky body from the floor. Giving Elizabeth a hand, he pulled her up and started their descent from the mount. He felt it imperative Lizzy expend some energy if this conversation was to be considered.

"Elizabeth - I am not convinced you can believe this Mr. Wickham. I have yet to meet him, but listening objectively, I have some considerable doubts. Please, Lizzy…" he stopped her from arguing. "Just consider them with me. My first object is as you had suggested. If it was truly the wish of a great man, like the late Mr. Darcy, it would have been written in the will. Claiming it to be suggested, or a alluded to in such a way did no permit Mr. Wickham to address Mr. Darcy legally is wildly unlikely. If my father can ensure his will reflects his wishes, there is no question that Mr. Darcy's father would. Secondly - why is Mr. Wickham joining the militia?"

"He was denied the living - he had to make a living some way."

"He was denied the living. Not the profession." Lizzy did stop at this argument, as it had not occurred to her the incongruence of this. Charlie did not push on ahead, but instead paused with her and expanded the thought. "If he was truly meant for the church, he would not be stopped by one parsonage going to another. The whole of England is full of positions he could have applied to. And if he is so personable, he would have no trouble achieving his goal. I find this most disturbing. If he could not be hired as a pastor, what does this say about his character? If he never truly desired the role, and we absolve him of the sins of most men; but then we must call him a liar. Lizzy, your vanity has been smarting ever since Mr. Darcy said those awful words. Do not attach your banner to this Mr. Wickham, because he affirms that which you hope to be true. Do not be blinded by a warm, charming face."

Elizabeth could not look at Charlie as he dissected Mr. Wickham's words. Her face flushed with embarrassment. Biting her lip, she charged ahead and thought over Charlie's words and considered the truth of it. They continued in silence for some time. At times like this, Elizabeth was so thankful for her friendship with Charles Lucas. He knew he well enough to leave her alone, as her mind worked out the details for herself.

When it came time to part ways, Elizabeth stopped and looked forlorn at her friend. "He did swallow his pride."

"What?" Charlie could not connect her words to their past conversation.

"Mr. Darcy. I had made it very clear at your father's party, those weeks ago, that I had heard his cutting notion of my tolerable looks. The day before Jane and I departed, Mr. Darcy found a moment to express his regrets."

Charles rested a gentle hand upon her upper arm, a soft smile upon his lips. "Elizabeth, we have been quite guarded, here at Lucas Lodge and Longbourn. As much as you believe you know about the great wide world, it is not so clean, or so good, as Meryton is. Please, be careful, be thoughtful, be wise. I would hate your heart or your spirit to be allied by these outsiders, whether it be Mr. Darcy or Mr. Wickham. There are things a man can know that a young woman like yourself simply do not have access to. I will see about this Mr. Wickham. I would presume there is both truth and fiction to his tale. Let us withhold judgement until more of his character can be ascertained. You, I believe, are already on the path to understanding Mr. Darcy's." Elizabeth assented to his prudence with a nod, and with a peck on the cheek, he bid her goodbye.

Elizabeth watched him go, and after a few moments frowned, and called out to him. "Charlie! You said Mr. Darcy was jealous! Whatever did you think I was talking about - what could he be jealous of!?"

Charlie did not turn around, but Lizzy could clearly hear the smirk in his voice. "Whatever do you think, Lizzy?"


	9. Chapter 9

Charles Bingley was besotted. There was no doubt about it. Darcy had often seen the man falling in love. But Darcy wondered if this was different. It had been some weeks now, and Bingley had continued to expound Miss Bennet's many graces and beauty and gentility. Darcy worried this sustained infatuation was only because there were no other heads to turn his interest. While in town, Bingley was apt to enjoy a woman's company, tout her as a beauty to be beheld by all, and dance the eve away with a pretty face. He would praise them all, but he easily moved on to the next ball, ready to find the next bell. But another possibility was that this _was_ Bingley _in_ love; not _falling in_ love. Darcy had seen some new signs in Bingley that showcased his feelings as perhaps different this time. His boundless energy was wound up in a nervous pitch which Darcy had never seen before. Bingley was always effortless ease and charm - but now Darcy would find him at times alone and puzzling. Darcy would surprise him out of his thoughts, and Bingley would stutter some nonsensical excuse for his distraction. Still, Darcy felt the situations in environment could account for this difference. Or perhaps Bingley's nervous musings were over the changes he would face becoming a land owner. Bingley had known responsibilities before, but this was indeed a big change.

Darcy was a well read man, and had enjoyed many poems on love. But he had never truly dissected it, considered it for himself. He more often than not believed that the poets wrote of passion, infatuation, or lust. Love seemed a higher calling, a deeper truth he had yet to find in a person so wholly unrelated to him. He loved his home - he honored Pemberley as the pinnacle of love. Generations before him had put their blood and goodwill into that home, and he was determined to continue that tradition. The estate had sustained not only the Darcy family, but the tenants, community, and county in times of trouble and prosperity. The place restored his soul, and in return he would care for it, truly love it, in all sense of the word.

He loved Georgiana, and his cousin, Richard. Though he loved them both for themselves, he also understood that they each represented something else to him - a truth and a goodness in the world he was famished to find. Georgiana was that which needed protection. She gave him purpose in a way nothing else had. To be her guardian was a weighty responsibility, but to be her _brother,_ her beloved brother, was perhaps the larger calling. Darcy truly saw her as the innocence of the world, and he treasured her simple kindness and trusting nature. Thinking on her made his heart wretch, knowing that which she had endured at the hands of that scoundrel.

Richard was a cousin, but more a brother to him. He represented brotherhood, and the duty and respect found in a truly good man. The affable, honorable, giving soldier, in the truest sense of the words. He loved the trust and comfort he found in Richard, and he loved the trust Colonel Fitzwilliam extended to any man worthy of it.

Pemberley, Georgie, Richard - these were all easy to love. The strife, the longing, the pain which the poets wrote of - was it love? Did Hamlet love Ophelia, in his dark dour way? He was more inclined to believe Hamlet in love than Romeo - _that_ foolish passion was certainly lust. But if the Bard did write of love, how could Hamlet be so selfish and so utterly _mean_. Was love difficult, maddening, impassioned?

Darcy froze as the image and essence of Elizabeth Bennet filled his mind and senses. Yes, the feelings he had for that woman were difficult, maddening, impassioned. But was that feeling love? He stared at the ceiling in the darkness of his room. It was before dawn, and he lie awake, tortured by dreams and nightmares swirled together into something heady, frightening and bittersweet. Darcy cursed his ignorance. He had never felt something like this for any woman. Was it infatuation; lust? Or was it the very lifeblood of existence - a truth of the world - that he was made for her?

* * *

Darcy tried to clear his head of the unwanted, unfamiliar doubts which cursed his mind. A hard ride once the sun peeked over the horizon did little to soothe his soul, a cup of dark black coffee did little to clear his mind, and a day full of visiting tenants did little to distract him. They were a sorry sight, Darcy and Bingley, sitting somberly at the table of Mr. And Mrs. Harrison, taking tea and feigning interest in their wheat crop history.

"That was dreadful!" Bingley complained after they left the home and began trotting across the estate. "What is wrong with us, Darce? I am not surprised at my own absent-mindedness, but you! I've never seen _you_ so preoccupied." He laughed softly but did not wait for Darcy to share his thoughts. "We must be done with work today, else these people call us both dullards. Come - let us return home. I will invite Charles Lucas, that will make four! We will drink and play cards poorly and lose our money to Hurst. That sounds a much better way to spend this dreadful day."

Darcy wished for anyone _but_ Charles Lucas to join them, but he would not put up a fight. Nursing a drink did sound better than dealing with estate business. They might agree to some awful agreement in their disinterested manner.

Hurst was more than happy to down more of his brother's finest brandy, and was hopeful that in Bingley's agitated state he could walk away with some extra cash. As long as he wasn't paired with him! Hurst pushed them to play Vingt-et-un until Mr. Lucas joined them, and was happy to begin reaping his rewards.

Bingley drank perhaps too quickly for his own good, and was soon in much better cheer, if not improved attention. He lost enough games that he insisted on quitting and chuckled as he convinced the pair to play piquet until Lucas arrived. He needed _some_ funds to gamble once their guest joined them. He stood and paced back and forth from Hurst to Darcy as they played, making telling faces which Hurst badgered him about. Soon he was good-heartedly thrown from the room, as Hurst insisted on a fair game with Mr. Darcy. Bingley left to await Mr. Lucas, as he suddenly was filled with a compelling urge to to question Charlie Lucas again. Perhaps Lucas would indulge some encouragement about Miss Bennet.

When Charlie Lucas did arrive, he was greeted with an overly active handshake, which Bingley noticed too late. With a sheepish smile, he bid Lucas to follow him up to the game. But, as he approached the room, he looked back at his friend, and decided to lead him astray to his study.

"Lucas, please - indulge me in a short conversation before we meet Darcy and Hurst. I am sure Hurst would like the extra time to try and set Darcy up. Darcy is exceedingly sharp - even now when he's been distracted, he has managed to trounce Hurst!"

Charlie Lucas smiled, somewhat confused at Bingley's words, but did not bother to try and follow the conversation. "Of course, Bingley." He civilly agreed, while accepting a tumbler of brandy. Bingley bid them to sit at a pair of armchairs near the fire, which held Bingley's attention for a full minute before turning to Charlie.

"Mr. Lucas -"

Charlie interrupted the man, saying "Come now, Mr. Bingley - I thought we were friends …" Charlie kept a straight face, but it was easy to see the smile in his clever eyes.

"Yes, yes! Of course! _Lucas…._ " Bingley still struggled to finish his sentence. How was he to clandestinely bring up Miss Jane Bennet to her closest neighbor.

Noting the man's struggle, Charlie Lucas filled the empty room with words, hoping to put the man at ease. He noted how very young Bingley seemed at that moment, slightly too deep in his cups. "Bingley - it is so pleasant for this home to be filled again. You have brought much joy to the neighborhood. I hope you are enjoying your time here at Netherfield."

"Yes … Yes I am most pleased with the place. My neighbors are exceedingly charming and I do consider myself very lucky to have found the place."

Charlie continued, bringing up Bingley's intended discussion point for him: "Yes, the Bennets are a very spirited family. As I said before, they are rich in love for each other, and are happy to share their goodness with their fellow man."

Bingley turned his gaze from Lucas to the fire, and he fiddled with the arms on the chair, while a foot impatiently tapped on the floor. Charlie Lucas still felt he could not overstep and encourage him too far, but instead noted: "Yes, I had the pleasure of seeing them just the other morning. Miss Jane Bennet is looking much improved from her illness, thanks to you and your excellent care. The family was saying how very much they wished to thank you and your sisters."

"Oh - really the honor was mine. Miss Bennet was a model patient and houseguest."

"I can believe it. She does not strive to be an ideal lady, yet she often is."

Hearing her praise upon his lips, Bingley was suddenly struck with an attack of fear. He jumped from his seat and scuttled behind the chair, and his hands gripped the back of the seat until his knuckles turned white. With big eyes, he looked upon Mr. Lucas and quietly asked, "Do you think so?"

Charlie, taking a sip of brandy, allowed Bingley to panic for a moment, considering it good for Jane. "Well - who would not?" He quipped with a slight smile. After a beat of a moment, he continued: "But I admit, over all these years, we have never become close. Not like Lizzy - ah - Miss Elizabeth and myself. Miss Jane Bennet will make some man very happy with her goodness and devotion, that I do not question."

Charlie contained a chuckle as he watched the young man fully digest the words and slowly relax. After a moment, he nodded, and agreed: "Yes! She is the epitome of a worthy woman."

"The younger Bennet ladies were questioning if you would really host a ball. They were most convinced that you would. Netherfield has not been open to the neighborhood for quite a few years, probably five now," Charles mused softly, taking another sip of the fine brandy.

Bingley almost lunged back into his chair at this advancement. His nervous energy had transformed from worry to excitement. "Yes! We had considered that. You believe the neighborhood would be amenable to a ball?"

"Certainly." Charlie civilly noted.

"Well - I shall task my sister to start preparations. Yes … Oh to dance the night away with her again is just what I need!" Bingley pinked slightly when he understood what he had shared. Charlie merely smiled softly and asked Bingley if he believed Mr. Hurst had had enough of losing to Mr. Darcy. With a roar of laughter, Bingley agreed and the pair joined the card party and chuckled to see Mr. Darcy held all the winnings Hurst had taken earlier from Bingley.

* * *

After two hours of games, Bingley happily left them to find his sister, and announce to her his excellent plan to host a ball. He wanted her to begin right away, now that he had lost his cash to Lucas and Darcy. The pair of them made a smashing team at whist. He wouldn't play the fool again for another game.

Hurst grumbled about his losses and relinquished himself to nap upon a settee. That left Darcy and Lucas to congratulate the other and split their winnings. "Mr. Darcy - I hate to be so forward, but I am obliged to ask you about a Mr. Wickham."

Darcy froze mid-count, frowning at Lucas. "Are you acquainted?" His question sounded more like an icy accusation.

"I have been introduced, but I know more of him from the impressions he has given others in Meryton." Charlie awaiting some sort of response, but Mr. Darcy kept his silence and took a long drought from his tumbler of brandy. "I felt you should be made aware … He seems to gather sympathy from young ladies by abusing your character. You must know the general impression of you will only degrade further if he is unchecked."

"How do you know this?" Darcy seethed. "Did Mr. Wickham try and ingratiate himself to you, along with these foolish women?"

"No. Miss Elizabeth Bennet came to me and shared his wretched tale. She was shocked by your apparent cruelty."

"What!?" Darcy barked, as he quickly stood from the card table. He turned from Mr. Lucas and paced the floor, as was his want. Mr. Hurst had the wherewithal to feign sleep. After a moment, he stopped and turned sharply to Mr. Lucas. " _My_ cruelty. Hah! The blackguard lives in the muck and breathes lies."

Charlie continued to sit; although he was worried at raising Mr. Darcy's ire, he sustained a calm persona. "Mr. Darcy - please know I've shared this with you because I do not believe the man. But _my_ discernment does not dictate the opinion of the neighborhood. And he _is_ a charming, genial man." Mr. Lucas did not say that Mr. Darcy had been just the opposite to the locals, but he hoped it was subtly implied. "You obviously have some history; I thought it the just action to notify you of his besmirching, and provide you an opportunity to ... persuade him to alter his behavior."

Darcy continued to slowly comprehend the information from Mr. Lucas. Miss Elizabeth believed Wickham! He should have let Richard run the man through. How could she!? Was she not as clever as he believed her? She could read about farm techniques but could not see through the vile scum that was Wickham? "Fools." he muttered, thinking poorly of those taken in by his smile.

"Mr. Darcy … If you know what he is, should you not warn the gentleman of the neighborhood? I am tempted myself to tell my father, from just a few days observation." Charlie hated to overstep propriety, but he feared the ruination this Mr. Wickham might leave in his wake.

Darcy's face was still red, and he cursed under his breath. "Am I to be forever shackled to the man?" He bitterly complained. With a stiff jaw and a curt sigh, he became fully aware of his responsibility. Yes - his duty. His father had indulged the man and released him to world. The Darcy family should curtail the monster they had helped create. In a cold tone, he announced, "Yes. You are right Mr. Lucas. Leave it to me." His eyes drifted to the fire, where he watched the logs burn. His mind tormented him - an image of Elizabeth listening to that man with compassion and righteousness blazing in her eyes. He felt as if he were kicked in the gut. Damn that Wickham.

Charlie spent the rest of the evening deftly balancing Mr. Darcy's dark mood and Mr. Bingley's effervescence. Luckily he was spared Mr. Hurst's belligerence, as that man maintained his position upon the settee.


	10. Chapter 10

The neighborhood was abuzz with the promise of a ball. Though everyone agreed that gathering at the local assembly was a pleasant engagement, the opportunity to attend a private ball at Netherfield estate was anticipated by all with joy. Rumor circulated that Mr. Bingley would bring in musicians from London, along with actors to put on something of an interactive play. His table would be set with grandeur and his wine cellars would be emptied. Even a pineapple would be cut and served!

Bingley thoroughly enjoyed the speculation his party provided, and found himself wondering if they _could_ engage a troupe of actors to perform- what a splendid idea! But his sister was aghast and admonished him for considering such indulgence. "I would not waste your income, brother! Such decadence would be lost on the small minds of Meryton. No, when we return to London and can host worthy friends, we can employ a troupe." For all her vitriol of the invite list, Miss Bingley was determined to impress Mr. Darcy and showcase her skills as hostess. The party was to be elegant and regal, if not a bit overdone for a country affair.

Mr. Bingley commanded that he and his sisters personally deliver the first invitations to the Bennet household, where Mr. Bingley even extended the invite to Mr. Collins. Before they had left, Mr. Bingley had secured Miss Jane Bennet for the supper set, and promised the other Bennet women to dance with each. Mary sniffed at the thought, but Elizabeth was pleased at the pronouncement. It was right to support them, if Mr. Bingley was to become their brother. His sisters were none to pleased at the pledge, and rushed their brother to cut their visit short. He bid them goodbye with a heart felt grin and a long glance at Jane, who blushed under his attention.

With a week to prepare, Mrs. Bennet was aghast with her requirements. Jane's gowns were all too common for such an important event, yet there was not enough time for a new one to be made. Certainly, an easy simple dress could be created in a week, but not one worthy of _this_ ball. She lamented and moaned the dreadful timing, and begged her husband to allow them to London. Alas, they were denied the indulgence, and the ladies went to Meryton with the intention to find new trimmings and accessories to spruce up their attire. Lace, rosettes, and ribbons were purchased. Lizzy had saved enough of her allowance to purchase a new small hair comb, with three petite pearls and light blue glass beads. Jane approved, and giggled that she would enjoy borrowing her sisters purchase at a later date.

The following days were spent inside preparing their gowns. It was just as well, as the weather had turned and a cold rain plagued the countryside for four days straight. Elizabeth preferred a simple gown and thus spent more time providing opinions to her sisters than adjusting her own dress.

But alas, she could only stay in one attitude for so long; she scuttled from room to room, trying to avoid her cousin as often as possible. Mr. Collins followed her everywhere. When they would join a room with her mother, she was forced to remain and attend Mr. Collins. At one such event, as she was held hostage, he had requested the honor of dancing the first set of the night with her, and she could do nothing but accept. The smug smile which crossed his lips boiled Elizabeth's blood. Although folly typically brought her laughter, Elizabeth could only worry over the possibility of an impending proposal, which Mr. Collins frequently and overtly alluded to. She winced at such statements, and did all she could to politely convince the man she had no interest in him. She was certain she could take no more, and prayed for her imprisonment to be over.

Alas, the morning of the ball the weather cleared. After being restrained to the house for so many days, Elizabeth was aching for a long walk, and left early in the morning before her mother could withhold her permission. Lizzy laughed as she imagined the objections: she would strain her ankle, she would fall and get mud in her hair, she would be stay out all day and make the entire family late. "No mother - I shall not be deterred," and with a a determined face she quickly left Longbourn far behind her.

Lizzy enjoyed the first hour of her walk, but after enjoying the November countryside for some time, her mind drifted. She was desperate to find Charlie. Several topics filled her thoughts. Firstly, Mr. Wickham. Charlie had told her he would look into his doings, and determine a greater understanding of his character. Lizzy was loathe to admit it, but Charlie had some fair points about Mr. Wickham's words and actions. Yet again she cursed the fact a young woman could not be privy to the full character of a man. Charlie could be in his company in many more situations, and discuss far different topics. Why did propriety provide a man with the opportunity to show two different faces to two different people?

Secondly, she longed to express her ire at a certain cousin to her sensible friend. Mr. Collins was relentless in his attentions. Kitty and Lydia found his flirting hilarious, Mary was forlorn at his blindness to her, and sweet Jane insisted that he was a good man trying his best to mend the hurt of their family. She required Charlie's humor and sensibility, and hoped for his affirmation that her father would not force an alignment between them. Reaching the peak of Oakham Mount, she rested for a moment, looking over the vast countryside. She chewed her lip as she remembered her first dance tonight would be with the dreaded Mr. Collins. "He is so dim! So absurd! What will I ever do if mama insists, if father relents to her wailings and entreaties?" This thought left her body cold with fear. "I must find Charlie …"

The walk back, she could not keep her mind from imagining the nightmare of being Mr. Collin's wife. She would do anything to escape such a fate. But if she must marry … She considered her friend. She had always believed she would marry for love. She _did_ love Charles Lucas. Yet it did not feel enough. If not love, what _did_ she wish to marry for? She struggled and cursed her meager understanding of it all. She didn't have the vocabulary for her desires. Did she wish to marry for passion? She groaned, thinking of her parents. _That_ had not ended in lifelong bliss. She thought of her dear Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. She considered theirs was the greatest example of a marriage she wished to emulate. They appeared the ideal mixture of friend and lover. Could she ever feel that for Charlie? Did it matter - She could feel neither for Mr. William Collins!

She found herself standing on the muddy road to Lucas Lodge. How could she ever bring up such a topic? She had never struggled to share information with Charles Lucas! But here she was, standing idly on the road, struggling to force her feet forward. Suddenly she was aghast. What would he think of her? What would she profess: I cannot bare to marry that toad, so save me from his cloying puny brain and whisk me off instead; but only if my father forces me to marry. How insulting to him! To be the lesser of two evils. To be truly _used_ by her. She struggled with her sense of self - the injustice of such actions festered in her stomach. Yet she shivered still at the thought of going to the bed of Mr. Collins.

Wretched with fear, she spun around and left for home. She could not discuss it with Charlie - not until it was her last resort.

* * *

The day after Charles Lucas visited Netherfield estate, Mr. Darcy had spent some moments lamenting his position, his duty, and his entire history with George Wickham. He was still haunted, and more so by his childhood friend's transformation into the scoundrel he knew today than any individual debt. What had happened? How could have he prevented it? But after a half hour of sulking, Darcy shed the keen complaints like a cloak, and donned a new coat of action. He spent some time pacing, grousing over a script in his head. He needed to discern a way to warn the neighborhood without revealing his past personal pains. Darcy abhorred gossip, and dreaded the thought that his warning might be taken as such.

"Bingley, I have some business to attend in Meryton today, you shall need to make do without me today." Mr. Darcy didn't give his friend a moment to protest, and was off to the town to begin his warnings. He began his charge with a variety of shops which he supposed Wickham would frequent. Putting aside his peevish manners, he quietly asked to see the proprietor of each location, and succinctly explained his early relationship to Wickham, and the man's history of stretching his credit beyond his ability to repay.

He was irked to be occasionally met by skepticism. When questioned, he bluntly encouraged the owner to compare his debts with their fellow tradesmen and consider the quickly accrued bills to income of a mere militia man. When a shop man was amenable to his cautioning, he also included an allusion to Wickham's ability to drain a young lady of her good sense. He darkly envisioned Elizabeth Bennet with the blackguard, and could hardly contain his rancor.

Poor weather kept Mr. Darcy from visiting all the gentlemen of the neighborhood that day, and some days to come, but he felt at least he was well on his way to limiting Wickham's capacity for misconduct. Darcy was appalled when he was met with distrust and reluctance. He was certain he had never been questioned by people so far beneath his station and understanding. And on the topic of Wickham's past behavior, of all things! But his manners had insulted the inhabitants of the town; he could no longer deny this. He soured, knowing in _his_ home county, he had no trouble keeping his actions polite and respectful. What was it about this insipid little town which drove him to such offensive comportment? He first defended his demeanor, remembering the whispers and gossip of his fortune at that first assembly. But then, with a sigh, he considered; the same topic was still discussed throughout all of London, and all of Derbyshire. No, his short temper derived more from Wickham and his abhorrent scheme involving his sister. And then to find him yet again in this very town! Yes, Darcy could blame his behavior on Wickham, and was pleased to ignore the additional effects which the unsuitable, unattainable Miss Elizabeth Bennet had upon him from the very start.

* * *

When the evening finally was upon them, Darcy was surprised at the mixture of emotions roiling in his gut. He first became aware of his state as he quibbled at his reflection in the mirror. In a rare moment of jumbled feelings and wavering confidence, he asked his valet as quietly and dignified as he could muster: "Do I appear old, Raymond?"

The elder gentleman who had served the Darcy family for decades was far too accomplished to allow his surprise show upon his face, and instead spoke in smooth ease. "Certainly not, sir. You look just as you ought; distinguished yet modest." The servant had noticed his employers struggle, and added this peculiar interaction to his mental list of Master Fitzwilliam's strife.

"Of course, thank you Raymond." With a stiff back, he dismissed his likeness in the mirror and left his chambers for a room with a window to watch the guests arriving. He only wished his could dismiss his feelings as easily. As he awaited no one in particular, he frowned. Considering his emotions, he found he was anxious- no, not quite. Excited- perhaps? When was the last time he felt excited? He could not remember. As such, he did not feel this word described him completely. He stood, in a frenzy of anticipation. Yes - that was the word. He stood here staring, anticipating her exit from the carriage, her elegant form floating throughout the room, her hand resting upon his during a dance. He paced the few steps back and forth in front of the window to work off his flustered nerves. Had she forgiven him his slight from the first assembly? Would she refuse to dance with him yet again- she had done so twice already. Did she sit in their family carriage, anticipating _his_ presence tonight?

In his confusion, a frown stayed plastered to his face, even as he stopped and watched part of the Bennet family slowly decamp from their carriage. Their entire family could not ride in such transportation, and apparently they did not own two vehicles. As such, the carriage was turned away and made a quick journey back to obtain Mr. Bennet and Miss Mary Bennet. The man who had been introduced as their cousin in Meryton was with them, and he seemed to stand especially close to her. With a smirk, Darcy imagined her sparing; she could easily parry the absurd man's attentions. His feet quickly carried him from the private rooms to the front of the home, where Bingley and his sisters were welcoming the neighborhood. Darcy desired to see Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and he could not stop himself from such a harmless inclination.

* * *

Lizzy entered Netherfield park and immediately began discreetly searching for two different gentlemen. She first felt it proper to find Charlie and confirm her opinion of the poor Mr. Wickham, and then she was determined to show Mr. Wickham her support by enjoying his company. Without really noticing, she worked her way through the receiving line, and distractedly greeted and thanked the hosts. Bingley left his sister to complete her duties, and grandly offered Jane and then Elizabeth an arm. Smiling softly at the pair, she was pleased to see how delightful they looked together. Jane was serenely stunning, and especially so upon Bingley's arm. Lizzy politely joined them, content to be the dimmer jewel in comparison to her sister. Yet, as they entered the ballroom proper, she felt the peculiar sensation of being watched. With hope, her eyes darted about, looking for Mr. Wickham, but she did not find him. At some point, a soldier made his way to the trio, and Lizzy happily said goodbye to her sister and Mr. Bingley, and then politely greeted Captain Denny. He was a favorite of her sister Lydia; yet Elizabeth also found his company and charming countenance pleasing. Captain Denny quickly sent Mr. Wickham's regards, quietly admitted: "I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now, if he had not wanted to avoid a certain gentleman here." Elizabeth was certain that Captain Denny referred to the dour Mr. Darcy. She thanked the man for his information, and turned away from the sea of red coats, and considered whether this affirmed Mr. Wickham's pleasing character, or refuted it. In one light, it showed Mr. Wickham was considerate of the guests and Mr. Bingley, hoping to avoid a scene. In another view, his actions firmly contradicted his words.

With a sigh, she lifted her attention from her internal musings, determined to leave her serious speculations behind and locate Charles Lucas. Lizzy still felt somewhat guilty about her thoughts earlier that day, but she knew the best way to ease her conscious would be to seek the comfort of a good friend. And that person could only be Charlie. She politely slipped through the crush of people, nodding and curtseying good evening to those who greeted her. Just as she was beginning to fear she would also be deserted by him, her eyes sparkled with at the recognition of his form. Handsome or not, he was a beloved friend. She was completely unaware of the jealous glower that passed over another man's facade as he watched her acknowledgement.

Greeting Charlie with a formal curtsey, she smiled widely as she came to him, her hand resting upon his arm and squeezing with familiar happiness. "I am so pleased to see you - I have missed you these last days! I am overflowing with opinions that must be shared. Come!"

Charlie was pleased at her intimate welcome, and took a moment to enjoy her beauty as she busily pulled him away from his father and the other men chatting amicably. "I am at your service, Miss Elizabeth," he smiled.

Lizzy proceeded to bestow her qualms about Mr. Collins, and declared him the most idiotic, witless, and absurd man she could imagine. He chuckled; he knew Elizabeth had exacting standards. "You are a very clever woman, which certainly is a detriment to your opinions of others. If only you were as silly as our younger sisters, you would be much more pleased with your company."

Elizabeth laughed lightly and argued, "It is not so! Even Lydia and Kitty are offended by his frivolous nature. But I will play the martyr for my sisters, as Mr. Collins has obtained my first dance." Although Lizzy meant to further her laughing tone, a tinge of truth cut through her jest.

"Really? I would have assumed Mr. Wickham had secured you."

"No, my cousin had the advantage of staying at our home. His extraordinary request was submitted at his first opportunity. And, it appears Mr. Wickham has avoided attending tonight. Business, of course."

"Perhaps that is for the better," Charlie murmured. "I must warn you Lizzy, I have found no truth to his tale. From my own modest examination of his behavior in town, I fear he uses his amicable nature to engage many a young lady. I suspect he is a rake."

Lizzy fought this assessment of him, and, struggling to hold her own initial judgments, asked: "Perhaps you are right, but a flirt is still due his promises, is he not?"

Charles could not contain his laugh. "Lizzy! A deflowering parson? I can think of nothing worse." He held her hand and forced her to meet his amused yet scolding look. "Elizabeth, do not allow his pretty words to cloud your judgement."

Elizabeth released a breath and slowly nodded. Yes, she would need to reflect longer on this subject. She jumped when a plodding man cleared his throat and cried out for his lovely cousin Elizabeth. Dropping Charlie's hand quickly, and making the introduction, she shared an exasperated yet confident look with her friend as she was pulled out onto the dance floor. At least she could be certain of _this_ character assessment: Mr. Collins was a wretched dancer and a bothersome man.

Mr. Collins did her the gratification of proving her point. Her dance partner turned the wrong direction, he landed upon her toes; in short, he completely mortified her. Lizzy could not leave the dance floor quick enough, and retreated to her sister Mary, who was the first familiar face she could find. Mr. Collins followed behind her, loudly apologizing for his _little_ mistakes. He assured her he could do much better with a different dance, if she would oblige him. Elizabeth denied him that pleasure, assuring him he would wish to dance with all his cousins and other fine young ladies from the community. She could not justify hoarding his company. Mary frowned at her sister, and quietly reminded her that falsehoods were a sin.

Excusing herself from the pair, she obtained a glass of wine, hopeful the drink might fortify her patience and mend her pride. Lizzy allowed herself to quickly sip the glass until the goblet was drained. Taking a great breath, she expelled the unhappiness and determined to enjoy the rest of her night. She filled the glass again, and her eyes scoured the room in hopes of seeing Mr. Bingley adoring over her sister - that was guaranteed to lift her spirits. In her effort in searching for them, Lizzy was unaware of two gentlemen closing in on her from either side of the room. One, with a jovial smile, deferred his attendance of her to the other man.

Mr. Darcy, in all his dark foreboding and solemn grace, looked down upon the woman with a burning gaze. He stepped to her side to show himself, and gave a curt bow as he requested: "Miss Bennet, would you, _at last_ , do me the honor of dancing the next with me?" Elizabeth was shocked at his seeking her out, and was so surprised by the juxtaposition of his contemptuous glare and his solicitous tone, that she found herself accepting his request. He briskly strode away, and Elizabeth slowly turned to find Mr. Lucas joining her with a soft smirk.

He cajoled her, "I dare say you will find him very agreeable."

"Heaven forbid! I promised myself I would _never_ dance with him."

Charlie chuckled softly, though Lizzy found nothing amusing. "Don't be a simpleton, Lizzy. Do not allow your fancy for Wickham to obstruct the attentions of a man ten times his consequence."

"There are no attentions to obstruct, Charlie! Mr. Darcy must be bored; yes, that is it. He finds the night dull and has decided to dance with me to expose even more faults of my character."

In a softer tone, Charlie insisted: "Elizabeth, clear your mind. A man like Mr. Darcy does not ask to dance, let alone three times, in order to complain about his partner. He has asked you to forgive his first misdeed against you. You should do him the honor of believing his apology."

Charlie awaiting some reply from her, but found nothing. He pressed on. "If he does atone for his statement, please consider his actions and his words in a perspective without that slight." The dance was upon them, and before she could be whisked away by the man in question, Charlie quietly teased her. "Lizzy, a dark glower from a man does not always signify disapproval of the object. It is more likely he condemns his own reveries of the object and himself."

And with that shocking explanation, Elizabeth found herself led out to the dance floor with Mr. Darcy.

* * *

Quick Note: Sorry this took so long to post! Turns out that the holiday season with a baby has left me much more limited time for writing. Thanks for your patience.


	11. Chapter 11

Darcy stalked the edges of the ballroom like a tiger trapped in a cage. His dark eyes were affixed to his prey - a bewitching, animated, teasing woman in white petite lace and a slim blue ribbon. He watched her search the room, and his treacherous heart ached with the wish to be her quarry. Instead, his blood boiled when she found her friend and target: Mr. Charles Lucas. What he would do to be greeted by her thus! To behold her twinkling smile and unguarded laughter.

He continued his sojourn around the room, determined not to stay put in one location for long. A bumbling man claimed her for the first set. Darcy could not help but smile as Miss Elizabeth Bennet tried her best to improve the man's skills; but it was to no avail. She was obviously displeased with the man- who wouldn't be? Perhaps he should save her from such a dastardly partner. She deserved a pleasant set after such an abominable performance. Crossing the room, he asserted his wishes and claimed the next dance.

Darcy left Elizabeth's side as soon as she demurely agreed. He feared if he lingered, she would retract her consent- she had turned him down before. As he retreated, Darcy passed Mr. Lucas, and gave him a curt nod. He would find a moment with the man later to update him on his warnings throughout the town.

A few stressful minutes was all that was left between him and his greatly anticipated event. He stretched his hands and wiped his palms on his handkerchief. He tried to soften his frown, but the chittering and chattering of a ballroom had always put him on edge. When the music faded, he returned to Miss Elizabeth, and secured her to the dance floor, aware of both her dismayed expression and the general amazement of the neighborhood to see him select a lady outside his party. Their scrutiny further annoyed him, and his glower prevailed.

As the maggot began, Darcy took a moment to fully look at the lady before him. Miss Elizabeth Bennet stood there, her big eyes wide, taking him in with a mixture of conjecture, willful indignation, and was that bashfulness? She was the strangest and most compelling fusion of candid, earnest, artless emotions, and he found he loved reading her face. They began in silence, her looks transforming from discomfort to determination, and she finally began the beginnings of a quiet conversation:

"I do love this dance."

Darcy responded with as much lightness as he could muster: "Yes, it is invigorating."

Silence settled between them again, though the partners surrounding them continued their pleasantries. Although Darcy knew he should say something, he found himself tongue tied, throat parched, mind thick. How could he make conversation? He was far too busy drinking in her bewitching presence; he had a difficult enough time keeping his countenance plain and his feet moving. Her pique continued, as she slyly spoke, "It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some sort of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples." All he could do was smile slightly and assure her that whatever she wished him to say would be said.

"Very well. That reply will do for the present."

As the quiet continued, Darcy could not decide if he was pleased at her teasing comment, or disappointed that she did not confess her desired topic to him. But he found he could not be too distressed. She was a graceful nymph upon the dance floor. She smiled politely to the other dancers, and met his gaze with heated looks of arch discernment.

After a time, Mr. Darcy found he wished to know what the lady read in his looks, and asked: "You have turned me down twice, Miss Bennet. Now that you can determine my skills, do you find yourself regretting your past decisions, or your current one?" Though he meant to match her teasing tone, his words fell flat and sounded entirely serious to him.

She looked somewhat shocked at his words, and turned away in the dance, biting her lip. He both feared and hoped his interest in her was obvious to her clever mind. As she came back to him, in time with the song, he reveled at her pink cheeks.

"I have yet to decide. While your footwork cannot be questioned, the same cannot be said for your conversation. But, I might forego that slight, since I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds." His heart jumped at this proclamation, but soon soured as he continued to listen. "We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the eclat of a proverb."

"This is no very striking resemble of your own character, I am sure. How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say. You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly…"

With no reply, he thought back to what Mr. Charles Lucas had told him a week past. Miss Bennet had believed that villain's story. He began again, and softly asked, "Do you often walk into Meryton?"

"Yes." She replied with an icy assurance. "When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance."

He could not keep his heart from racing, and he was certain his face turned red, as he tried to portray an image a calm. But it could not be so. "Indeed, Mr. Lucas has informed me you were pleased with him. I must tell you, Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends. But he is not equally capable of retaining them. Forgive my language, but he is a cad, a spendthrift, and an opportunist in the very worst sense. Please believe me when I tell you, he is not a man to be trusted."

Her skin flushed pink again, but Darcy could find no joy in this blush. He could read her frustration and fluster, and sought to end the conversation and change the subject.

"I do not wish to discuss such dark topics now. Please, let us start afresh - tell me, what think you of books?"

It was obvious Elizabeth had yet to digest his words, and she quickly answered: "Books - oh! No. I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings."

"I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be no want of subject. We may compare our difference opinions."

"No - I cannot talk of books in a ballroom; my head is always full of something else."

"The present always occupies you in such scenes - does it?" He questioned, with a look of doubt.

"Yes, always."

He was unsatisfied, and for some time were separated due to the steps. His doubts continued to fester, and when they joined, she questioned him with a sense of gravity which inflamed even greater attention in his looks.

"I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave, that you resentment once created was unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created."

"I am," he replied, with a firm voice. Of this he was certain.

"And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?"

"I hope not."

"It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first."

"May I ask to what these questions tend?" He asked, urgency and concern both apparent in his tone.

"Merely to the illustration of your character… I am trying to make it out."

He both bristled and relivished her scrutiny. Yet again she transcended his traditional opinions, as he discovered he desperately wished to hear her opinion. He had never concerned himself with a stranger's opinion of him before.

"And what is your success?" He asked, trying yet again to match her playfulness. Again, he failed. He was too invested in the answer to hide his earnest interest.

"I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly."

His hope was shot down like a bird, and as he frowned, he forced out some response, "I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either."

"But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity."

The truth of this statement usurped any pain he had felt only moments before. He struggled to reply, and in an urgent, almost begging tone, he whispered: "I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours."

Miss Elizabeth Bennet colored a shade of pink, her air grew hesitant, and she refused to meet his gaze for the rest of the set. With a polite bow and curtsey, the pair separated from the floor, so different than the sea of cheery, clapping partners.

He was thoroughly dissatisfied; in his breast there was a tolerable powerful feeling towards her, which soon procured her pardon, and directed all his anger against another.

He would spend the rest of the evening in the despair of unfulfilled expectations, and the gut wrenching understanding that he did not and could not shake the grip of anticipation.

* * *

Lizzy awoke the following morning with her own turmoil of unfulfilled expectations: Mr. Wickham's absence, Charlie determining the very man a seducer, and Mr. Darcy deigning to dance (and wishing very earnestly to please her, no less!). The only predictions met were Mr. Collins' poor skills at any task within a ballroom and the embarrassment created by means of her younger sisters and mother. The only joy of the night perhaps was dancing with Charlie for the supper set, and watching Mr. Bingley attend to her sister. She still struggled to accept Charlie's accusations of Mr. Wickham, but he swayed her to his logic: If Mr. Wickham was a rake, of course he would be affable and attentive to beautiful young ladies like Elizabeth. His looks of truth could be particularly practiced veneers. His upsetting story of Mr. Darcy's deeds could be crafted to ingratiate himself to others, and inflate his own character. After dinner, she was teased by Mr. Collins, who continued most perseveringly by her side. She refused to stand up with him again, which put it out of her power to dance with others. Her only reprieve from his absurdity came when Charles and Mariah Lucas joined them. Charlie slyly orchestrated a polite, if ridiculous, conversation between his sister and her cousin, which did bring some relief in the form of farce. But, at the end of the night, she was still left with the bitter taste of disappointment, in her family, in the evening, and perhaps worst of all, in hear own discernment.

The night had been long. Elizabeth had remained above stairs into the late morning; her thoughts occupied her with a stranglehold, so much so that she missed breakfast. When she finally made her way downstairs, she was met by Mrs. Bennet, grinning from ear to ear, eyes sparkling with the joy of fulfilled dreams. Lizzy froze in that moment, fear gripping her heart.

"Lizzy! Finally you have joined us! Come, come, Mr. Collins would like to speak to you!" Her mother was suddenly capable of a strength Elizabeth would never expect, with her fits of nerves. With a great push, she shoved her pert daughter from the hall to the dining room, where Mr. Collins sat with a confident grin. "Here she is, Mr. Collins. I am sure Lizzy will be very happy - I am sure she can have no objection. Come, Kitty, I want you upstairs!" She forced Elizabeth into a seat, and with the same unlikely strength, grabbed her younger daughter and dragged her from the room.

Elizabeth turned her wide eyes from her clasped hands slowly to the man, who had already begun rattling off a most unwanted speech. "... Almost as soon as I entered the house, I singled you out as the companion of my future life. But before I run away with my feelings on this subject, perhaps it would be advisable for me to state my reasons for marrying."

Even in this distressing moment, where Lizzy felt her future twisting upon a fraying rope, she could hardly keep her laughter contained at thought of her cousin's suggestion of being run away with by his feelings. His feelings?! Indeed, those emotions which he might feel, namely presumptuous pride, stupid solemnity and preening achievement, would never whisk him away in a lover's anxious confession. What a revolting man!

Once he had completed his confessions of reasoning, his animated approval of his patronage, and his assurance of her appropriateness, Lizzy found it was absolutely necessary to interrupt him.

"Sir - you are too hasty! You have not spoken any request of my hand, and I must tell you that if you were to ask, I must deny you."

"Ah, you are such a fine, young lady. Suggesting a refusal, in order to increase my feelings. Fear not, fine cousin, my admiration cannot be measured."

Of that, Elizabeth was sure - it was far too small to be examined. But, alas, she needed to make herself clear, as all humor from the situation had disappeared. "Mr. Collins, I am perfectly serious in my refusal. You could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who could make you so."

Mr. Collins began to suggest again that her parents would assuredly have another opinion, but Elizabeth did not remain to listen. Those words sent another shard of fear into her heart. She suddenly felt unable to breath as she stood in the hall. Upon the stairs she saw her mother, hands clenching the rail. "Well!?" She called out. When Elizabeth could only shake her head, tears pricking at her eyes, her mother's face turned red. Gasping for air which she could not choke down, Elizabeth fled the house. Out - she must get out!

* * *

The house was in an uproar. Mr. Collins was cornered by Mrs. Bennet, who suggested Lizzy was just having a stupid joke and she was certainly marry him. The parson was not amused, as he slowly understood that he had been rejected. He was flabbergasted that the lady was not here grovelling her thanks at his feet. When Mr. Bennet was informed, Mrs. Bennet shrieked that they had the most selfish, unfeeling daughter. She must return to the house and save the family.

Like any morning after a festivity, the Lucases came to call upon the Bennet family. Charles Lucas was instantly aware of the uproar. Mrs. Bennet's wailings could be heard from the entryway. Lady Lucas exchanged a look with Mariah and Charlie, muttering that perhaps Jane was still unattached. Charlie chuckled, but was quite certain this turmoil came not from a missing proposal, but a declined one. He came upon Mary in the sitting room, frowning at the piano with an honest look of disappointment. Kitty and Lydia cackled away, and Charlie approached them, to quickly confirm his supposition.

"Lizzy told him she could never make him happy - what woman could though!" Kitty grinned.

"Yes, Mama is determined to force her. What a joke if Lizzy must become Mrs. Collins." A snort escaped her giggles, and Lydia continued with a twinkle of vulgar joy: "Mr. Collins is starting to question whether he wants such a thankless missus."

"Mother, Maria, I believe Mr. Collins had requested another visit to Lucas Lodge. I will recover him." And with the quick efficiency of a family friend, Charles had convinced Mr. Collins that the immediate family required some privacy, and that his mother and sister would be ever so pleased if he would return them to the house. Sending the small party on their way, Charlie sighed and eyed the countryside. With a gulp of air and a firm face, he walked off, to find Lizzy.

He found her where he most expected her- staring across the countryside atop Oakham Mount, with a face white with fear and retaliation. When she was finally cognizant to his footfall, she startled and turned quickly. With a great sigh of relief, she stared at him sadly; there was no need for words. She could quickly decipher that the Lucas clan had come to Longbourn and had been made aware of her troubles. What she now searched for was his appointed task. Was he to bring her home to the loss of her freedom? Was he here to persuade the logic of the situation? As he began, she bit her lip at the injustice of it all.

"Lizzy - he is not dangerous, or cruel. And with very little effort on your part, you could have him obeying your every whim. You would very much be the ruler of the house."

"Chales - no!" She gasped for air, eyes pleading. "You cannot advise me to-"

Charlie cut her off with a swift flick of the hand. "Lizzy - I just wish to share all the possibilities with you. You are swept away in indignation, blind to the sense of this situation." After a brief pause, he continued: "You would be safe, live a life befitting your station, inheriting your family home. Under your guidance this land, the tenets, the county as a whole, would flourish with your sharp attention and clever mind. You would secure a future for your mother and sisters. There are many benefits to marrying Mr. Collins."

"Charlie," she stood, her jaw firm. "I cannot do it."

With a softer smile, he replied: "Yes. I know."

At this, Elizabeth tilted her head, her face transforming into confusion.

"I needed to share the logic of the situation. But as we both know, you are not wholly a creature of logic." This elicited a small laugh from her lips, splitting the tension from the hilltop.

"Elizabeth." He took another breath, and continued: "What I fear for you is that you will be presented with no option. That your father shall command you to save the family he chose not protect."

Lizzy looked away, her face burning pink, all but confirming the possibility.

"What I wish you to know, is that you do have another opportunity. I had hoped to wait a few years, for you to understand more of the world. But, it is not to be so. If you are posed with an ultimatum, please consider my suit instead."

Elizabeth could not contain a small gasp. Charlie stood as relaxed as he ever had. She wondered at his calm demeanor.

"I will not deceive you, Elizabeth. I am not romantic, you know; I never was. I cannot provide you the passion or the fervor you have previously considered a requirement to enter the state of matrimony. But I do love you, Lizzy. And you might find this preferable to a life tied to a man you cannot value. Respect and esteem can sustain the relationship between husband and wife. It would be a sensible marriage."

Elizabeth turned from his steady gaze, confused at her own emotions. Where was the flood of relief she had expected. She had hoped for this exact conversation only a day ago. And yet, her insides only twisted tighter.

Without an immediate response, Charlie took a step closer, and spoke softly. "I understand that this is not what you wished for, Lizzy. But I truly believe that in some time, some years from now, when you are not so young, you would see the merit in our relationship. Your understanding of love will evolve with time, and I do not believe you would be unhappy with our situation."

She struggled to answer him, and choked out a few stale words. "Thank you for this alternative, Charlie."

It was not an agreement to his proposition. He had hoped she could see past her girlish beliefs of the nature of love, but he had prepared himself for this outcome. As such, he easily spoke the next words. "Thank you for your consideration. I am certain of our happiness. But, as I said before - my appeal is an open request. Should you find yourself forced to accept a man, please know I would be honored to be your choice."

She turned to him, now a mixture of relief, turmoil, anger and dread. With a quick smile, he grabbed and squeezed her hand for support, and bid her to return to Longbourn with him. "At the very least, I have sent Mr. Collins away with my mother and sister. You shall face your parents without his sniveling pique at your foolhardy accord."

The knowledge that her suitor would not be home provided more calm to her than anything yet, and Elizabeth earnestly thanked her friend for his solicitude on that front. After these few words, they returned in silence, and Charlie sent her into the house, and promised to call tomorrow. They bid each other goodbye; Elizabeth struggled to look him in the eye, but did put forth the effort to try a smile.

Elizabeth found her parents in her father's book room; she did not share the conversation that had taken place between her and her friend. To her immense relief, her father supported her where her mother would not. She was spared both the wretched future as Mrs. Collins, and the miserable decision to become Mrs. Lucas


	12. Chapter 12

The rest of the day Elizabeth spent in her room, staring out the window. She felt like she had been pulled from a lake: spared from drowning, yet still soaking wet and overtly aware of how close she had been to the darkness. In those first moments of introspection, Lizzy concluded that her sense of self was very dependent on her independence. Once married, she would lose that independence; she would belong to a man: to love, to cherish, to obey. All these vows required a woman to wholey give herself, to completely entrust her heart and her mind to another. She did not feel able to give herself so thoroughly anyone of her acquaintance; surely not Mr. Collins, but even Charles Lucas.

Charlie's proposal stuck in her heart like a splinter. She felt hurt that he considered her opinion on love undeveloped - she could not overlook how his swift words had suggested that her beliefs were childish. Leaning upon the the warmth and tolerance of friendship, she convinced herself that they were both entitled to their own feelings. Through his impassive deductions, her romantic inclination _was_ idealistic. But could she marry a man who did not request marriage of his own volition? She had heard no desire in his voice. There was perhaps devotion, but was that enough?

Then she chided herself. How foolish she was! How could she berate a true, honest man- her dearest friend! He had not pretended some urgent passion, and he calmly stated that a respectful marriage was preferable to any other. He had offered her a solution to not only _this_ repugnant offer, but to _any_ offer. And Elizabeth was certain that Charlie would come on the morrow, she would tell him of her father's fidelity to her and her happiness, and they would continue on as friends, without any negative repercussions.

She suddenly felt very humbled. Charlie _had_ spoken of love. He was understanding and patient. As always, with his sensible discernment, he spoke to her on her terms, and degraded himself to _her_ desires.

Elizabeth felt completely unequal to his steady commitment, and wondered if she could truly be happy with him as her husband; or if she was worth such faithfulness.

* * *

The following day, Elizabeth was pleased to find her mother no longer begged Mr. Collins to be patient with her selfish Lizzy. It appeared her father had completely closed that discussion, and Mrs. Bennet could only rely upon peevish allusions of her unhappiness. These were never expressed directly to Elizabeth, as her mother was stubborn enough to uphold her threat of 'never speaking to her again' for a day or two at least. Mr. Collins' feelings were expressed by resentful silence and angry pride. Lizzy was at first surprised, assuming he would avoid her, but soon remembered his assurance and his self-importance - he _was_ bestowed with the enviable condescension from a noble patronage.

But in Elizabeth's mediation, she had overlooked her sister's sorrow. When the two had had their fill of the irritable company, they walked slowly through the dead winter garden. Then, Elizabeth became aware of Jane's heartache. During the frenzy of the previous morning, Jane had received a letter from Caroline Bingley.

"The whole party have left Netherfield by this time - without any intention of coming back again."

Elizabeth interrupted her sister, "Well, they may all leave as they like. But that will not prevent a certain someone from returning."

"No, dear sister … Believe me." Jane replied softly. "Or better, believe Caroline. She is certain of their plans. And she has further written to put me on my guard, Lizzy; she has warned me of her brother's interest in another: 'I do not think Georgiana Darcy has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishment so and the affection she inspires in Louisa and myself is heightened into something still more interesting, from the hope we dare entertain of her being hereafter our sister. My brother admires her greatly already.'" Jane recited these words from memory, and Elizabeth could only despair at the implication: Jane had thoroughly scrutinized and dissected the letter in misery. "Is it not clear?" she continued with such awfully disguised melancholy. "Caroline neither expects nor wishes me to be her sisters she is perfectly convinced of her brother's indifference, and she means most kindly to put my on my guard. Can there be any other opinion on the subject?" There was no hope in her voice.

"Yes, there can! Mine is totally different!"

Jane awaited with wide eyes.

"Miss Bingley sees her brother is in love with you, and wants him to marry Miss Darcy. She follows him to town in hope of keeping him there, and tries to persuade you that he does not care about you."

"Lizzy! How can you suggest such a thing?"

"Jane - you ought to believe me. No one who has ever seen you together can doubt his affection. But Miss Bingley is solely concerned with _her_ future happiness; and we are not rich enough or grand enough for her and her prospect: namely Mr. Darcy."

Jane disagreed, fully convinced of Caroline's goodness and honesty. Elizabeth knew it was hopeless to argue the point, as her sister was determined to see the world through the lenses of graciousness. Lizzy instead ended the conversation with the assessment that Jane was too good, and Mr. Bingley too romantic to not return. But she worried, most obsessively throughout the day, that Mr. Bingley was too _dupable_ to return. As they finished their walk, Lizzy couldn't help but pray that Mr. Bingley's capriciousness would hurry him back as quickly as he had left.

Charlie Lucas called upon the household in the early afternoon. He entered the house with his typical, sensible smile. Elizabeth was baffled how he could look so at ease! As if they had not discussed such important, dangerous topics the day before. She could feel her cheeks flush as he cordially exchanged pleasantries with the family gathered in the sitting room. When he quietly asked after any news, Mrs. Bennet bitterly complained of her headstrong daughter and the whims of rich men who disappeared to London. Charlie tactfully understood that Elizabeth had not been forced into any decision, and quietly gave her a generous smile, without a shred of disappointment or awkwardness. He then brought considerable comfort to the household by once again taking Mr. Collins away to discuss "the business of Hertfordshire." They had shared no words, but both Charlie and Elizabeth comprehended that their friendship, as it stood just a few days before, would continue on.

In the following days, Mr. Collins continued to disappear from his future home. Elizabeth could only be thankful for his absence, until she learned what what he had been doing.

"Maria! Engaged to Mr. Collins? Impossible!" She wretched her gaze from Charlie, and looked out upon the empty fields of barren winter.

"But Lizzy - surely you are not offended. Do you think it incredible that Mr. Collins should be able to procure any woman's good opinion, because he was not so happy as to succeed with you?"

Elizabeth hardly knew what to respond, and let out a strangled: "No. Yet…"

"I see what you are feeling. Mr. Collins was wishing to marry you only a few days ago. But I could not discourage his interest in Maria. He is a respectable man; he is not vicious. And as far as fortune goes, it is an eligible match."

"You would allow your sister, only seventeen, to commit her life to secure her comfort."

"Lizzy, you do not make allowances for differences of situation and temper. I did not dissuade either of them, nor did I force them! Maria is sensible enough to consider the options and make her own decisions. I am convinced that her chance of happiness with him is as fair as most people can boast on entering the marriage state."

Elizabeth quietly answered, "Undoubtedly," and after an awkward pause, began walking again.

Charlie followed at a distance, allowing her the space to process this information.

"Elizabeth," he called, once her pace had slowed some. "We need not discuss it, but I _do_ wish to share with you my relief at your father's protection. I hope no ill-will exists between your family," and significantly he added, "or your friends."

Lizzy forced a tight smile, looking for any sign of insincerity, and finding none. After a beat, she found her cheek and laughed. "I must disappoint you Charlie. My cousin was very put out, and my mother has all but sworn to never speak to me again. Though over the last few days I have found this a blessing!"

Charlie joined in her laughter, glad to see her relaxation, but also aware of her avoidance of his name. But, he would leave that be, and instead began their walk again, and shared some of the rather ridiculous attentions Mr. Collins had lavished on the Lucas family.

* * *

Charles Bingley was very surprised to find his sisters in London a day after him. After relaxing on his travel day, he attended to his business contact, met his solicitor, and visited his club, where he had toasted himself at his grand luck and happy future. The emotional whiplash he encountered as he met Caroline and Louisa at home left his head aching and his palms sweaty. He had left his gentlemen friends in a state of such elation! And now, he found his sisters berating him at his bereavement.

"But Caroline! I have rented the place! What a waste of funds if we do not enjoy the house." Bingley had always struggled to manage his sisters, but this seemed too much. He grasped for any excuse he could muster to convince her to return. "You did such a fine job with the ball - don't you wish to continue to host such grand events? And the company! Surely you don't wish to leave Miss Bennet behind!"

Caroline sniffed at such a sentiment, and continued to insist that they stay in London. "Jane Bennet is a sweet girl, yes. But we will find much pleasanter company here, brother."

Bingley looked distraught, and sat in a chair. His sister's exchanged a triumphant smile, which irked him beyond words. Desperate to misunderstand her, Bingley swiftly suggested a splendid plea: "Caroline - Perhaps Jane, that is, Miss Bennet, would enjoy meeting this pleasant company. If you are determined to stay in London, why not have it both ways - you could invite her to stay with you, as a particular friend!"

"Charles!" Caroline shouted, aghast at such a suggestion. After a dark gaze to her sister, she sighed and crossed her arms. "Charles, you cannot be serious in your interest for Jane Bennet. She is pretty, yes. But her family! They are outrageous - you would become the laughingstock of town! And they are essentially impoverished, with the estate entailed away. Jane would bring absolutely nothing to the marriage."

"Nothing!" Charles called back, leaping from the chair. "Why- she would bring _herself,_ which is all I care about! There is nothing objectionable about her- far from it. And _affection_ is far more important to me than affluence. My heart is engaged, Caroline." His eyes darted from one sister to the other, and found no compassion. "Louisa!" he called out in a plea. "I did not question your desires when you married; and it is my position to do so! I cannot believe you are both so against me on this." Sadness seeped into his soul like the thick damp fog that shrouded London.

Charles fled the Hursts' town-home, and slunk to Darcy's abode. He could not abide another moment in that household. Bingley sheepishly invaded Darcy's study, where the master of the house was sorting mail. He was welcomed with the steady patience of his dearest friend, and took his time to relish the silence. Darcy never pushed him to speak, though he rarely needed to. But tonight, Bingley slowly sipped his brandy and brooded at the fire.

Finally, he turned to Darcy and complained. "My sisters care nothing for my well-being, Darcy! Nothing! To close up the house, flee Herfordshire, against my wishes! I am appalled at the gall of my sisters!" His expression darkened as he looked to his friend. "And _you_ did nothing to dissuade them!" He was suddenly connecting the dots, as words fell out of his mouth. "You could have put an end to Caroline's plot in a moment - the sway your opinion holds of her! Darcy …" His green eyes darted over his friend's face, until he cowered at Darcy's abiding gaze.

Darcy was not one to shirk away from a difficult conversation. "Bingley - are you certain she cares for you? Loves you, as you do her?" He was still not completely convinced that Charles Bingley was in love - but there was no doubt to his infatuation and affection for Miss Jane Bennet, marriages were routinely entered under lesser justification. "Her manners are open, cheerful, engaging; but I _am_ sorry to say that I saw no symptom of particular regard."

Bingley's annoyance at his friend wavered. He was a humble man, and the idea that perhaps he could not inspire love in his beloved plucked at a cord of doubt within him. But before he drowned in the depths of self-contempt he recalled her words from that magical time when she remained at Netherfield.

"Darcy - When Miss Bennet was recovering at Netherfield, we had the opportunity to discuss topics not exactly sanctioned by society. And although the word 'love' was never shared, I believe Miss Bennet confided in me just the same." He hopped from the chair and paced (a nasty habit picked up from a certain friend). "It was that day after the Bennet's had visited, and she came down to the sitting room. I had been sharing with her how her family had been quite delightful, but she demurred and blushed, as she is very aware that her mother's manners do not match her own."

Darcy bit his tongue- that this was an understatement.

"She then told me I was very kind to welcome her mother's exuberance. You see, Mrs. Bennet loves her daughters very dearly, and worries constantly for their futures. Her outbursts may be unseemly, but her heart is good. And then, she admitted that with her mother's character, she avoided public displays of preference. She would never wish to place a worthy gentleman into an awkward situation." Bingley stopped his walking and stared at his friend. "Am I wrong to assume this means she _does_ care for me? Before this conversation, I had never even considered her reserve - I hadn't noticed it myself. But it seems you did." With a bitter laugh, he could not help but add, "It is ironic, perhaps even hypocritical of you Darcy! You are the shyest person I know!"

Darcy frowned at this information. He hadn't considered that Miss Bennet might be aware of her mother's offensive manners; that she might hide her feelings in the effort to stifle her mother's expectations. If Mrs. Bennet was this vulgar when her daughter was demure, what would she be like if Miss Bennet was demonstrative? Darcy took a long drink from his tumbler, enjoying the burn. It soothed the ache in his own heart, and hid the surprising sting of jealousy. Just because _he_ could not deign to marry the lovely Elizabeth Bennet did not mean that Charles was similarly constrained. Bingley continued to stand and stare, until he finally prompted Darcy for an answer: "Well man!?"

"No, I believe you understand Miss Bennet correctly, Bingley." Darcy sighed, his gaze resting on the laughing flames in the hearth. "It seems my discernment was wrong." Or perhaps, distracted. Before his friend could comment at these surprising words, he advised his friend. "If you wish to marry Miss Bennet, you will need to control your sisters, Bingley. It would be unseemly for your wife to be abused by her new relations."

"I would never allow such a thing!" Bingley bristled.

"Wouldn't you? I believe you have allowed some unkindly remarks by already, Charles. But Bingley … it will be worth it. If you love her, and she returns your devotion- well … there is nothing nobler."

Bingley almost blushed at Darcy's romantic words, but found he could not tease him, for the truth of those words filled his chest with a burning, uncontainable joy. "Yes. You are right," he mused.

The two continued to watch the fire, each blazing with a different but equally strong emotion. Darcy forced himself to stand, and smiled at Bingley. Lifting his glass and catching his eye, he shared his congratulations with his treasured friend, while sealing his own disappointments with the clink of the crystal.

* * *

Authors Note: I've always thought that after Elizabeth's rejection, Mr. Collins would never deign to marry into the Bennet family. His self-importance and pride honestly rivals Darcy's.


	13. Chapter 13

Mrs. Bennet was filled with such flutterings of exasperation, which would eventually give way to smugness, only to revolt back to the deepest pique. The volley of such differing emotions was the most frustrating phenomenon. On one hand, Mrs. Bennet was convinced that the dear Charlie Lucas had stolen Mr. Collins right from under their noses. How vexing to imagine that dolt Maria Lucas as mistress of her home. But, on the other hand, Mrs. Bennet contrived to image that Charlie Lucas was desperate to keep Mr. Collins out of the house in order to prevent the connection between him and her dear Lizzy. His actions were certainly a declaration of his interest in her most undeserving daughter. Thus, she contented herself with the image of Elizabeth forcing Lady Lucas out of her home. But ultimately, she would quiver again, imaging Lady Lucas would find some way to hold both marriages over her head. Maria Collins would host Longbourn and Elizabeth would ultimately become a Lizzy Lucas, with nothing no honor left to the Bennet name. Oh, what she would not give for Mr. Bingley to return to Netherfield. Her nerves were utterly dependent on the goodness of dearest Jane.

Jane had penned a response to Miss Bingley's letter and despaired and the lack of reply. She considered her silence as the end of her doubts. The entire party must be settled in London for the winter, and so distracted with the joys of the season to even make time for a letter. Elizabeth listened to Jane's distress with silent indignation. Her heart was divided between concern for her sister, resentment against all others, and the smallest hope of Bingley's return. Though Jane may give way to closure, Elizabeth still relied upon her understanding of character; At least _some_ characters… She prayed that where she was wrong in Mr. Wickham she might be right in Mr. Bingley. What she believed of Mr. Darcy, she could not bare to inspect too closely.

Over the last weeks, especially with the Netherfield party's removal from the village, Mr. Wickham's integrity had fluctuated with as much tumult as her mother's nerves. First, some rumors were spreading that Mr. Wickham was no longer welcome in many a shop throughout Meryton. Gossip hinted at the most outrageous sums of debt held in Mr. Wickham's name. Elizabeth was aghast to imagine how one man could spend 50 pounds in littleover six weeks. When the Miss Bennetes had happened to see Mr. Wickham in town, he was just as charming as ever, and teased them, asking if they believed him such a spendthrift. It was hard for her to discern the truth of the situation, without asking the merchants flat out when he owed them. Then, it seemed as if the entire neighborhood was apprised with his pitiable situation. How they mourned his mistreatment, and cursed Mr. Darcy's loutish practices. In this way, the tea rooms paired Miss Elizabeth and Mr. Wickham's names together. They had both been caught in Mr. Darcy's wretched pride. Elizabeth hated the incident to be discussed yet again. And she could not help but notice that while the drawing rooms were full of Mr. Wickham's woe, the man himself was not to be found within the walls of a shop or a house.

Elizabeth indulged her skepticism with her dearest friend. "I cannot make him out Charlie. Such an air of goodness and refinement, such engaging manners! If he is not as good as he seems, does the reverse must be true of Mr. Darcy? Why is it that they are tied up with one another. Cannot it not be true that they are _both_ flawed: One embellishes the truth too far, the other tactlessly upholds the truth too rigidly. Yet, I remember it clearly.., Mr. Wickham professed: Till I can forget his father, I can never defy or expose him."

"Perhaps in the face of the town's mistrust, he has suddenly repressed his godfather's memory."

"Charlie!" Elizabeth gasped, shocked and determined to stifle her laughter. Her face burned pink at the effort. Walking on to hide her struggle, she chided "That was abominable to say. Jane would not approve."

"Dear Jane," Charlie smiled with a surprising warmth. "Not to worry, she will forgive my salaciousness, or perhaps forget, when you tell her my news."

Elizabeth stopped and turned. "Charlie …" she breathed, her giggles vanished. Her fine eyes stared at him with such compelling urgency, he could not find the determination to continue to tease her.

"I've heard news that Mr. Charles Bingley is returning to Netherfield. And quite alone, if my sources are to be trusted."

Elizabeth's eyes grew large, sparkling with the joy of giving- she could share such blessed hope with her sister. To witness Jane's delight would go a long way to heal her perturbed soul. As a tiny smile started to stretch her lips, she turned from him and started dashing away, back toward Longbourn. Charlie watched her run, smiling softly to himself. She was a treasure.

* * *

Elizabeth did her best to keep her smugness to a minimum, which was, truly, not difficult. Jane's happiness tip-toed out of the shadows of self reproach, and Elizabeth was determined to shelter it from any further derision. Instead, she embraced her fair sister, and whispered encouragement. She clung with the hope that Jane's felicity would rub off on her.

Since Netherfield park had been let, her peace had been shattered. Her daily rituals felt empty, the truth of her family's bad taste stung with a before-unknown bite, and her self-image had been challenged; she suddenly found herself lacking. All order of _men_ had upended her surety. With biting insults and superfluous compliments, with charming deception and startling offerings: Elizabeth felt change had swept through Hertfordshire like a whipping wind. It stripped her bonnet from her hand, and whisked it away from her hand. She was left grasping at the security of yesterday, but when she caught it by a ribbons edge, the hat was no longer the same. It was shredded and dirty. She was left to wonder, was it worth reconstructing the brim? Would it ever be the same? Should it remember it fondly, but give it up and press forward to purchase a new bonnet? Would she seek the familiar harmony of her life before this fall? If she found it, would it be enough?

In the darkness of night, she pondered the striking image in her head, as was left with the bitter taste of unresolved attitudes. As she drifted asleep, she could reach no conclusion.

* * *

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, along with their four children, came to Longbourn every Christmas time. This year would be no different. Elizabeth relished their fine manners and easy conversations. Her Aunt Gardiner, especially, was a bastion of sense and wisdom. Mrs. Bennet welcomed them all, with the over exuberance of a women on the heels of success. "Dear Brother, Dear Sister! What pleasant timing you have; for you shall be lucky to meet our perfect new neighbor! Mr. Bingley is returning to Netherfield Park any day now, and will be a perfect catch for dear Jane."

Mrs. Gardiner raised her eyebrows with a quiet smirk as she assessed the blush in her eldest niece's cheeks. "Jane, you did not share your happy news."

"Nothing is settled, or promised, Aunt. Oh - My mother is full of wishful speculation," she struggled to speak.

"Speculation! Never!" Mrs. Bennet cried. Taking her daughter and sister, she hurried them inside, insisting there had never been a man more in love with a woman.

Lizzy turned to Mr. Gardiner with a saucy smile, and quietly shared, "Uncle - I am loathe to admit it, but on this one point I must agree with your sister. Mr. Bingley has shown ample preference for my sister. I dearly wish that he returns from town to make her dearest dreams come true."

"Well, Lizzy," he laughed, "I shall desire the same outcome; for when else have you found yourself aligned with your mother!"

Elizabeth laughed in reply, and took his arm to enter the house.

* * *

Mr. Bingley returned to Meryton two days following the Gardiners. Rumors ran rampant about the town; for what sort of man celebrated Christmas alone in the country?

The answer was quickly exposed. A man in love and in search of agreement to a match would travel anywhere at any time of year. Still, gossip would not cease at the resolution. Why had his sisters and friend not returned to the country? Did they not approve of Miss Jane Bennet? Who could image such a thing! For she was the sweetest, kindest young lady in the world.

Jane's joy was so pure and true; the entire house filled with a surprising dose of happiness and accord. After the initial thrill, Mrs. Bennet spoke with a remarkable amount of sincerity on the subject. The contentment of seeing a beloved child happy was transformative, if only for a few hours at a time. The youngest Bennet sisters spent some time enchanted by the smiles of the newly engaged, and giggled over the imagingings of a love-match, instead of a red coat. Mary practiced a new song to be performed at the wedding breakfast, and the Gardiner children rejoiced at the revelation that they would now have a gentleman cousin!

Elizabeth was truly happy at her sister's bliss. She was devotedly joyous, and faithfully ecstatic to join her sister and soon-to-be brother as chaperone on many a chilly walk. Some time was spent in cheerful conversation, and other times Lizzy was happy to outstrip the mirthful pair. In those moments, she struggled to persuade herself that Jane's perfect resolution was enough.

When she was so anxious for her sister's verdict, she absolutely believed that a happy ending for Jane would satisfy her. She had jested in the past about being the spinster aunt, but had honestly believed it a likely outcome. Her staunch beliefs on marriage had restricted her future in a very real way. And yet, she found her position on the marriage state even firmer now. Her vow for the deepest love, and only the deepest love, was affixed in her heart even deeper. But this new confirmation filled her with a wistful melancholy. She was so very happy Jane, she was! But she was so very sorrowful for herself. Jane was perfect - she was deserving of love, was so easy to love. Lizzy? She was headstrong and foolhardy and fervent. What man would love these qualities? And even if they did, could Elizabeth return that love?

Lizzy didn't dare broach this conversation with Charlie. The topic was far too intimate to discuss with a man who had offered his hand. After Christmas had passed, and many lively evenings had passed in the extended company, Elizabeth broached the subject with her Aunt. Mrs. Gardiner had already been appraised of Elizabeth's first proposal, but was surprised to hear of the second. Before she commented, she persuaded her niece to share more of her feelings.

"Aunt - I feel so uncertain lately. Charlie proposed, 'a sensible marriage.' I have never considered myself _unsensible_ , but I find the entire concept dreadfully distressing. Am I wrong, harebrained, to demand more than sense in this decision? And Jane is easy to love, what of me?"

Mrs. Gardiner grabbed Elizabeth's hands, gently squeezing them in solidarity. "Elizabeth, you are too engrossed in your own fears. Firstly, I know you understand there must be more to marriage than love." Here, she purposefully chose her words, "You are too _sensible_ a girl, Lizzy, to fall in love where want of fortune would be imprudent." Elizabeth let out a soft sigh and nodded, a hesitant smile at her lips. Mrs. Gardiner continued: "Charlie is right to consider the practical aspects of marriage. But prudence is not the only element to consider. Love _does_ have an eminent role in the greatest of partnerships. But Elizabeth, you are young. You have an abundance of time to find the makings of the man you seek. I know, this summer, your uncle and I have agreed to take a trip to the Lakes. You shall join our party, and you will refresh your soul with the beauty of England, while broadening your sphere. If that is too long to wait, you can join us in London. Or perhaps the new Mr. & Mrs. Bingley will wish to tout your puckish manners to the ton." With a glimmer of understanding in her eyes and another squeeze, she commanded: "Do not despair Elizabeth. You deserve just as much love as your sister, and I am certain you shall find it;" And then for their entertainment, she added, "Perhaps in more men than you would like!"

* * *

Authors notes: 1 - Some people are disappointed in Charlie. I am too! But people are flawed, and Charlie is, as was Charlotte, a sensible, unromantic person. I do not believe Charlotte's main reason for accepting Mr. Collins was her age: "I ask only for a comfortable home." As much as we'd hope Charlie would protect his sister from a silly pompous man, he instead falls to propriety: women accept men for their security.

2 - Other's are curious how Maria would ever accept Mr. Collins. To turn down Mr. Collins is to turn down mistress of Longbourn; I believe this inducement enough for any young woman. Plus a connection to the Noble Patroness! Charlotte (and now Maria) are an important foil to Lizzy.

3 - This chapter took far too long to post! I'd say not my best work either... But I will keep moving on! Thanks for your patience.


	14. Chapter 14

Jane and Charles, as he now encouraged Lizzy to address him, had agreed to wed on the fifteenth of February. Mrs. Bennet lobbied for a later date, but Jane and Mr. Bingley were of a notion to marry sooner, thus the compromise was struck. She was pleased to find that this would mean her Jane would be married before miss Maria Lucas. Their mother was adamant that although she would be pressed for time, she would prepare the grandest wedding breakfast since her own celebration some 24 years ago. Although Mrs. Lucas might scheme to outdo her, she would keep some details secret from her friend, to shock her with her fine hosting.

She also insisted that her brother and sister take dearest Jane to London to purchase her trousseau. Originally, she pressed for all six Bennet women to indulge in Mr. Gardiner's great connections, but Mr. Bennet would not relent. His two eldest could travel for a short period of time when the Gardiners returned home, but the three other girls and his lovely wife would need to be satisfied with new gowns from Meryton. Mrs. Bennet was tempted to protest, but was assuaged when her eldest daughter promised to return from town with a special ornament for her mother.

Lizzy was pleased to escape her mother's effusions of joy and anxiety, even if only for a sennight. Bingley gallantly enlisted to escort the Bennet sisters, as he was certain there was more business in town he should attend to. He would also be able to supervise their return to Hertfordshire. And thus, it was all arranged.

Elizabeth spent the following days before their travels frequently in Charlie Lucas' company. On such a surprisingly bright afternoon, the pair met the infamous Mr. Wickham on their path to Meryton.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet!" He called cheerfully from afar. "Ah, and your devoted Mr. Lucas," he added with a cheeky grin. After a playful bow and the typical pleasantries, Mr. Wickham fell into step with the pair, alongside Elizabeth, and partook in the general conversation for a bit of time. At an opening in their speech, he redirected the discussion with a brazen question. "Miss Elizabeth, I must ask- whatever changed? I had believed I would be wishing you joy by this moment." Mr. Wickham overtly turned his gaze from her to her companion, and feigned a look of distress. His facetious smile could not be hidden long. "Didn't you expect it also, Mr. Lucas?" He goaded.

Elizabeth could not help the blush which crawled from her neck to her cheeks; at first he seemed to imply that Charlie and her would be engaged. But, as he pulled Charlie into the jest, Lizzy relaxed slightly, and understood that Mr. Wickham did not refer to Charlie Lucas, but rather her cousin, Mr. William Collins. She choked out a laugh, eager to avoid this topic of conversation. Thinking back to that horrid proposal still left her shaking with indignation. "It seems his attentions were redirected to a suit which was more apt to please him, and it is all settled for the better. Now my cousin shall be Mr. Charlie Lucas' brother. Charlie-" she noted, turning to him, "I had never considered that we would now be related!" She laughed with true amusement, and was quick to forgive Mr. Wickham's initial distressing tease, now that it brought genuine humor.

Charlie nodded to Mr. Wickham, simply stating that he was pleased to welcome Mr. Collins into the family. How Charlie could be so practical about such an impractical man baffled her.

"Certainly you have forgotten another announcement, Mr. Wickham. I suppose you do not hear it endlessly as I do, so I will forgive you the neglect," Lizzy jested.

"Ah yes!" Mr. Wickham smiled. "Mr. Bingley has returned without those dark characters, and has subsequently become your brother. I send the warmest wishes of happiness to Miss Bennet and Mr. Bingley. He has been a very generous, very solicitous man to the soldiers here in Meryton. He deserves every happiness. As does your sister, of course. I only hope that she is not snubbed or censured by Mr. Bingley's acquaintances."

"Why would you suggest such a thing?" Charlie asked mildly.

"Well, sir; I have the foresight of history with the man's mentor. I know Mr. Darcy to be prone to jealousy and supremacy. Even Miss Bennet's gentle manners may not be immune from Darcy's scorn."

Elizabeth worried her bottom lip; she had not considered that possibility, but quickly decided to reply: "If he does not approve, I suppose their friendship will suffer. But seeing as Mr. Bingley has agreed to be my sister's husband, I cannot image him choosing Mr. Darcy's comfort over Jane's. They will be prodigiously happy, with or without Mr. Darcy's acquaintance."

Mr. Wickham smiled and hummed, pleased with her answer, and continued on another line of pleasant conversation. When they amicably parted ways, Charlie turned to Lizzy and asked, "You do not find it peculiar how Mr. Wickham drums up conflict and troubles at every opportunity?"

"Charlie, now I might accuse you of prejudice. Mr. Wickham was very pleasant for most of our conversation. I believe his comments concerning Mr. Darcy were very much in accord with that man's character. I am still not convinced that Mr. Darcy has not conducted a misdeed against Mr. Wickham. Mr. Wickham does not seem the type of man to simply besmirch another gentleman's character; and a lifelong friend at that! You have sensibly tempered my acceptance of Mr. Wickham's story, but there is certainly a history there. And like we decided before, one man's innocence or guilt does not negate the other man's. I am happy to think of them both as flawed - who isn't?!"

Charlie watched Elizabeth, and responded with a simple shrug. "I cannot argue with that statement."

* * *

Darcy had received a sparse few lines from his friend over the holidays. He could decipher his script in so much that he could confirm the engagement and his friend's grandest joy. Besides that, it was difficult to discern much else. The holiday was enjoyed quietly with his sister, with a few visits to Matlock House. Although his cousin Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam was on duty, the Darcy pair still enjoyed their Matlock relations.

In the bustle of the following days, Darcy found himself obligated to attend a ball hosted by a friend from school. An acquaintance of both himself and Bingley, he had some business to discuss, and knew that Bingley's sisters were still attending. That was the circumstances in which he found himself tethered to Miss Caroline Bingley yet again.

"Ah - Balls are so much pleasanter in town, don't you agree Mr. Darcy?" She cooed. Darcy was tempted to disagree with the woman, and state that balls were never pleasant, to any degree. He instead gave a jerk of the head, which she could interrupt to her leisure in either the affirmative or negative.

Before he could control his thoughts, he slipped into his usual reverie: her. The only thing that could make a ball pleasant was Miss Elizabeth Bennet. His eyes searched the room for that light and pleasing figure; his ears strained for her delightful, earnest laughter. His brow darkened; no, Elizabeth would not be here. She could not be here. Again he berated himself -she could not be his!

"I am still shocked that we, united together, could not stop my brother's union with the Bennet family. We shall be even more reliant upon your superior company, sir."

Darcy grimaced at her insinuation, and could endure her schemes no further. "Miss Bingley, I confided in your brother my own reservations, but ultimately encouraged Bingley to trust his own opinion. I have upheld my duty to our friendship, and now only wish him well on his path to matrimony."

Miss Bingley's sickly sweet smile faltered. Darcy supposed he could see an eye twitch. She fiddled with her fan, failing to hide a scowl from the room.

"Well." She huffed, obviously struggling to hide her displeasure. Turning out to the dancing crowds, she indulged in her pique and began to weave another conversation. "It is likely that Miss Bennet will not be the only sister at the altar."

Darcy's entire body tensed. He grinded his teeth, he clenched his fists, yet, due to a lifetime of practice, he maintained an impassive dull expression. "Is that so?" He droned.

"Why yes. Your favorite's fine eyes will soon be teasing and troubling another."

Did he dare ask her to continue? His vision seemed to close in, and he found he could only look at the heavy damask curtains framing a window. They were dark, dark mauve. She was to be wed? Did she believe he had forgotten her when Bingley returned and he did not. Foolish, foolish heart. He could hardly breathe.

"Yes, it is quite the gossip. That preposterous parson asked for her hand."

This - This! He did not expect. His eyes saw red and he snapped his wide eyes to Miss Bingley. "Mr. Collins?" He sputtered. His lifetime of training was useless to such a blow. His beloved, bewitching Elizabeth, bent under the fat idiotic thumb of the most ridiculous man.

"Yes, that was his name." she prattled on, pleased with his attention. " And she refused him, to the outrage of her mother. You know he is the heir of the entail. Instead, some Miss Lucas is marrying him. The scandal is that Miss Eliza is, or soon shall be, engaged to Mr. Lucas! The man poached the reverend's prize, in exchange for his sister! Oh my dull brother, to be connected to such scandalous behavior."

For one brief moment, Mr. Darcy could breathe again. She refused him. The steel of that woman continued to surprise him. When faced with ensuring her family's comfort, she would not sacrifice herself. In this instance, duty had a limit, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet understood her own worth. Would he have been able to make such a decision? His own worth and happiness over the demands of his family? It took no time to know the answer: no. For better or worse, his very soul was commanded by family pride and duty. He had left Elizabeth behind.

And then, to hear she would then be engaged to Mr. Lucas. His gut soured, his eyes returned to the luxurious folds of the expensive drapery. She would be far happier with him. Did she love him? Did he love her? Darcy was sure Charles Lucas didn't love Elizabeth Bennet - at least not like he did: with an ardent passion and bothersome persistence. And with this thought, which shocked him more than could be at all reasonable, he went cold. Fitzwilliam Darcy was lost to Elizabeth Bennet: loved her, desired her, adored her. All his independence and power and logic meant nothing in the face of this woman.

Darcy preformed the smallest of bows and excused himself from the company of the wretched Caroline Bingley. "Urgent business, I have just remembered." Urgent business indeed - the business of drinking away the memory of this conversation, and the imaginings of those two, blissfully wed.

* * *

Elizabeth and Jane spent a pleasant week in London. Bingley visited often, and Jane and he determined their plans for the foreseeable future as newlyweds. They would spend some time at Netherfield, where Lizzy would join them for Jane's comfort. Then, Bingley was adamant on bringing his lovely bride to London for the remainder of the season, to show all of the ton what a lucky devil he was. Jane was pleased with his desire to introduce her to his circle of friends, but was wary of staying with the Hursts. Jane was persuaded, when it was agreed that Elizabeth would travel with them, to be at her side. Lastly, they would have a small honeymoon and leisurely venture north to Scarborough to meet Charles's extended family for Easter. He had a humorous aunt and some cousins he was very close to. Though they could not attend the wedding, he was pleased with the invitation at the holiday. Charles was sure that after these few months together, Jane would be more comfortable in her position, and could brave the trip alone.

Jane was the very picture of bliss, and carefully chose her fabrics for her trousseau from Mr. Gardiner's warehouses, with the quiet help of Mrs. Gardiner and her sister. Lizzy was happy to tease her whenever she became too flustered, constantly ensuring her Mr. Bingley would be pleased with her appearance in either cloth! "Men are too thick to consider how a gown would appear created out of a different fabric. And Charles is too much in love to consider anything other than your beautiful features. Your attire will be meaningless to him!" At this statement, her eyes grew wide and she quickly clapped her hand over her mouth. She had spoken the truth without meaning to! Jane looked positively skittish. As the sisters slowly looked to their aunt, they found valiantly containing her laugher. Elizabeth dissolved into giggles and the women joined her merriment.

Elizabeth was adamant that Jane should complete her shopping before she would find her own new outfit. Mrs. Gardiner acquiesced, but took note of a few choices she believed would be most becoming for her second niece. Jane found a lovely white cotton sprigged with yellow roses that she insisted her sister use for her bridesmaid gown. Lizzy agreed it was the loveliest of fabrics, but far too fine for her. "I shall destroy such finery! It does not deserve such a muddy future." Mrs. Gardiner laughed, and convinced Elizabeth she might wear it on less damp days.

"Besides, Lizzy - you shall argue, but with your schedule set as Jane's companion in town, you shall need a few other dresses. I insist."

With some cajoling, the fabric was selected, and Elizabeth was pleased with the image of the new gown forming in her mind.

* * *

Mr. Bingley spent much of his time between the Gardiner's and his club. He stayed with the Hursts, and did his best to command some authority, apprising them all of his plans with Jane. Louisa and her husband begrudgingly agreed to host the newlyweds, seeing as Bingley contributed a fair share of his funds to renting the townhouse. Ultimately, Bingley told his sisters he expected them to welcome Jane with open arms, and was pleased with his perception of their progress.

He was pleased to avoid his sisters one afternoon by calling on his friend. He was surprised to find his typically impeccable friend behind his desk with dark tired eyes, hair messed, and cravat askew.

"Darcy- you look quite a fright!" He called with a nervous laugh. Bingley was never one for acting, and as he sat across from the man, his anxiety and concern showed true through his eyes. "Really, Darcy, is everything alright?"

Darcy let a long sigh escape his lips as he avoided his friend's gaze and pulled the brandy and glasses from the cabinet behind the desk. "I am well. Just … Caught up in some distressing business." He convinced himself that his half-truths were not lies. He quickly changed the subject as he scrubbed his hand through his hair and poured them some drinks. "I am surprised to see you in town, Bingley. Are you here for one last frenzy of bachelorhood?"

"Me? Gods, no Darcy! I am keen to marry! No, Jane is in town with her aunt and uncle to procure her trousseau. I was happy to follow them here and attend some business. I will return to Hertfordshire in three nights."

"Good," Darcy mused.

After a clink of the glasses and a sip of fine drink, Bingley shyly started again. "Darcy- You've been the best of friends to me. I would be honored if you would stand up with me at the wedding."

Darcy immediately felt the warmth of the request; Bingley was as close a friend as Darcy had ever had, perhaps even more like a younger brother. Their juxtaposed personalities balanced the pair. Darcy was in constant need of Bingley's positive attitude and lightness of spirit. Bingley was grounded and directed to duty and sensibility under Darcy's tutelage. But the joy of this request was tempered with the chill of temptation. He would have to face her again.

Bingley squirmed under Darcy's silence, and was swimming in doubt about Darcy's supposed blessing of his marriage. What was taking him so long? Bingley babbled: "I know you are not fond of her family, but you have admitted that Jane has always been the image of propriety. And I can now assure you that she most fully returns my affection."

Before Bingley could further his suffering, Darcy held up a hand and professed: "Yes! Yes, of course I will stand with you Bingley. Yes. Yes, the honor will be mine."

Bingley's relief was obvious, as he grabbed his friend's shoulder and squeezed: "Thank you Darcy! You must come and stay at Netherfield. My sisters and Hursts will attend the wedding, but will travel the day of. You shall not be bothered by them, and can relax away from this troublesome business of yours- I don't think I've seen you this afflicted since the fall. I hope it is not related…"

"No, No. Just some unhappy work that must be nipped in the bud."

Darcy's plans for the wedding were secured, a toast of good cheer repeated, and the men left the study for a game billiards. Bingley's happiness was both a easing balm and a maddening envy to Darcy's soul. After a few more drinks of fine liquor, Bingley left him to it, adamant Darcy was not to cut his travel to the wedding short.


	15. Chapter 15

Mr. Darcy arrived at Netherfield three days before the wedding. It was a fine, mild February, very unlike the chill of Derbyshire. In this instance, he missed the biting cold. Knowing the raw bitterness was of the natural world would have placated Darcy's disquiet. But instead a pleasant crisp day, akin to a Derbyshire spring, welcomed him to Hertfordshire.

Bingley was even warmer in his reception. "Darcy! Thank heavens you are here! I am wild with impatience! Why - I might even match your pique on a Sunday evening!" he jested. Darcy responded with an eye roll and a dry shadow of a smile. Clasping Bingley's hand in a shake, he thanked his friend for the invitation, and slowly entered the blasted house filled with memories of his enchantress.

Bingley spent some time at Longborn the next two days, but less than usual. By this time, Mrs. Bennet was no longer worried at his possible desertion. Thus, she hurried him from the house, letting him know these last few days were critical to a successful wedding breakfast. His visits disturbed her schedule; and as such, he was dismissed from the home with startling energy from his soon to be mother. And even his beloved Jane could not be stolen outside, for her fear of a tan or an accident or a cold! His fiancée simply smiled; her embarrassment producing a becoming pink upon her cheek. How he wished to kiss the color to an even deeper bloom! Lizzy laughed at his defeat, and offered to walk with him home.

"Yes! Take him away Lizzy!" Mrs. Bennet cried. "And while you are out, advise him on Jane's preferences- surely she is too modest to share." She whispered, but far too loudly to be missed.

"But momma, is Lizzy not prone to the sun's rays as much as Jane?" Kitty questioned from her sewing hoop.

"Who cares for her complexion?! It is Jane who is getting married!"

Lizzy laughed heartily and grabbed Mr. Bingley's arm as he completed his farewell to Jane. "Come Charles! I might fall and break my ankle, or sneeze all through your ceremony, as long as Jane is safe. Perhaps I should grab an umbrella, so as to shield the groom from a tan!"

Bingley shared a hearty laugh with his most bemusing soon to be sister, and his eyes twinkled to see the joy in Jane's face at their easy repartee.

"I will return home, under the care of Lizzy. She will be sure to catch me if I trip!" He laughed. As he gathered his coat and his hat, he took a moment to say one last goodbye to his betrothed. "Jane- lovely Jane. Tomorrow cannot come soon enough. My angel," he kissed her hand goodbye. Jane quietly thrilled at his attention.

Lizzy demurely looked away, feeling the tug of melancholy once again. Since her aunt's advice, Elizabeth had been able to find the strength to shake her fears and return to her characteristic high spirits. These moments of wistfulness or doubt were thankfully fleeting, and as Bingley turned to her, she promptly smiled cheerfully and cued him to remove from the house with an exaggerated flourish. "Goodbye, sister! I must escort this poor lad home," she cried. Another round of laughter came from all, a heart wrenching goodbye was evaded, and Bingley, with his horse trailing behind him, and Lizzy enjoyed a diverting walk to Netherfield

As they reached view of the house, Bingley turned to his almost-sister with a laugh, "Lizzy, thank you for accompanying me home safely."

"Yes, although you might have preferred to ride home, my escort has the happy after effect of filling more of your day. You shall now have less time to fill with your anxiety." She smiled teasingly.

"Your kindness is limitless." He laughed. "But truly, thank you for agreeing to stay with Jane. Your company is most diverting, and I know you shall ease any lingering nervousness she might harbor."

"It is my pleasure, dear brother." She smiled warmly. "Your welcome allows me an escape from my mother's nerves. I am certain the loss of Jane, even if it is only three miles, will leave her bemoaning the ways of the world. It is truly diverting, as she has been praying for this day for years! Now that her wish is to be granted, she is praying for the hours to slow. I am certain your prayers are just the opposite."

"Yes. Well … I am to the house Lizzy. Luckily Dary is here to ensure my safety until tomorrow. You can promise your mother …" After a moment, "my mother, he shall ensure my looks will be just a fair tomorrow."

Elizabeth forced a choked laugh. She had assumed Darcy would be at the wedding, but was surprised to hear that he was already at Netherfield. Avoiding any unpleasant thoughts of that man, she smiled at the one before her. "I so very much await the joy of tomorrow. Goodnight, brother."

Bingley smiled warmly, bowed and grabbed Lizzy's hand, kissing it sweetly, and bid her farewell until the morrow.

* * *

It was as if Mother Earth rejoiced in Charles and Jane's union. The sun shone, the birds sang, and Jane looked more angelic than ever. Mr. Bennet knew it was a father's lot in life to give away his daughters. And in this instance, he could not be more pleased at his eldest's choice. As they prepared in front of the church, having a final moment alone, he divulged in his daughter: "You will be a very happy woman, Jane. You will do very well together. You're each of you so complying that nothing will ever be resolved on."

Laughing through her tears, Jane tried to chastise her father, whispering, "Papa…"

"Yes, You are both so easy, every servant will cheat you, and you are both so generous that you shall always exceed your income."

"Papa!"

"Yes, Jane. I am sad to lose you, but if you must go, I am happy that Bingley is your man." After a kiss on the forehead, he smiled. "Come - let us assuage your husband's nerves, else he may need to call on your mother for her smelling salts."

* * *

Lizzy had left her sister and her father; her joy for her sister overflowing. Yet, she approached the church with a strange foreboding. Pressing wrinkles from her lovely gown, and fixing an errant curl back into her coiffure, Lizzy identified her pensive musing. She could not help but fear that this walk down the aisle would be her only one. She had struggled to comprehend her feelings, or more so, her lack of feelings. Charlie Lucas was a beloved friend, an excellent man, yet he did not stir her devotion. Elizabeth was quite sure no man had touched her heart. She craved an intensity, or a passion, from her marriage partner; but she had become despondent that she would ever strike that emotion in another, and even more fearful she was not capable of feeling it herself.

With a huff of frustration, she entered the church to stand at the back of the congregation, to hide her sister's soon expected entrance. This was her dearest sisters wedding! She was determined to be happy; thus casting her cloak of sorrow off at the door.

Some neighbors turned at her entrance, smiling and whispering their opinions and gossip to one another. At this moment, Lizzy was grateful her sister had chosen such an elegant muslin. If this was to be her only walk, she was assured she looked splendid.

Her eyes met her brother's: he smiled weakly. Lizzy returned his gaze with a warm reassuring nod, hoping to dispel some of the green from his face. Bingley could not keep still! His feet shuffled about in an anxious dance, his fingers tapped his thighs incessantly, and his eyes darted from organist to parson to the crowd. His restlessness both endeared and annoyed Elizabeth.

When the doors opened behind her, she turned her head and gave Jane a teary eyed smile. Both she and her father looked very emotional. As the organ began, she slowly walked down the aisle. Her eyes danced about the familiar guests, but halfway to the altar, her eyes locked with Mr. Darcy's. His face was serious, his lips a thin line of indiscernible emotion. But his eyes, yet again, his eyes were filled with such an intense earnestness. His gaze was solemn and completely consuming. Elizabeth felt herself struggle to breathe, and was incapable of tearing her eyes away. As she took her place, and the congregation stood for the bride's promenade down the aisle; she still found her eyes locked with Mr. Darcy. Thank the heavens Bingley and the guests were pleasantly engaged with Jane's entrance. But Elizabeth found, until the old parson began the service, she was stranded: looking upon the most vexing, disagreeable, imposing man.

* * *

God, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld.

Darcy had struggled within the walls of Netherfield. Every room held a thought connected to her. Or worse, connected to him. But here and now, before the whole of Meryton, Darcy was yet again ensnared by his siren. She stood at the back of the church, smiling to soothe Bingley. Her dark eyes sparkled and before he could fully file each detail about her being, she slowly advanced down the aisle.

Finally, finally! She settled her queenly gaze upon him, and his body screamed out to him. His heart cried and his stomach retched with acid. He could imagine her coming to him so easily. Darcy stood in a haze, desires and dreams oh so close to his grasp.

He was incoherent to his expression and to the crowd around him. His vision was wholly taken up by her lithe form, her charming gown, her defiant curls, and her fine expressive eyes. In this moment, her dark eyes were an impossible storm of joy, sadness and daring. What she saw in his face, he hadn't the capacity to consider; like a thirsty man in the desert, he drank deeply from the oasis that was Elizabeth Bennet.

After what felt like forever, she tore her gaze from his, and he quickly became coherent to his obvious gawking. Ashamed at himself, he affixed the blandest mien he could conjure in her presence.

He was insensible to the bride and groom. The wedding ceremony advanced and the words, the oaths, and the promises hung heavy upon his soul. For they were the very sentiments he wished to share with the woman across the aisle.

But she avoided his constant looks. Her eyes would swell with such a lovely warmth of what could only be love as she gazed upon her sister and Bingley. But her eyebrows would furrow, and her eyes would dart back to his face. She would confirm his continued gaze, and then dart her eyes back to the lovely couple. But he could not fully grasp her ire, and was instead transfixed by the pastor's words, and the beautiful woman before him.

By the end of the ceremony, he forced a smile for his friend. Bingley beamed with a joy Darcy had never seen; which was something! Bingley was always happy, always pleased. But his looks ran true with something different. Image how his heart and soul would soar if able to marry for love! If Bingley's happy countenance surprised the room, what would Darcy's content do?

The final step was to sign the registry. Mr and Mrs Bingley signed, followed by the pastor. Laughter and well wishes filled the air, as Darcy bid Elizabeth to the book. He could not keep his body from leaning toward her and his eyes gazing over her lovely shoulder as she scribed her name. It was so easy for him to image the words "Elizabeth Darcy," in her neat, fine script. She turned and whispered an "oh," at finding him so nearby. Her large eyes searched his face with her trademark courage. "Mr. Darcy," she said after a few beats. With a curtsey, she found her way around him, out to her beloved sister and brother. He turned and watched her leave the church, his heart deflating. She left. In his dreams, she would leave this sacred place upon his arm. He turned to the book, and confirmed his torment. Her name remained: Elizabeth Bennet.

* * *

The wedding breakfast was overcrowded, overheated, and overwhelming. But the laughter, the gaiety and cheer, were equally overflowing. Darcy felt stiff and lost in the sea of chattering friends and family. Elizabeth, still a vision in white and roses, laughed brightly with her sisters, Miss Kitty and Mrs. Bingley. Kitty's face was beet red and her stare was directed at her new brother. Elizabeth did nothing to contain her mirth, and Mrs. Bingley appeared fixed somewhere between Kitty's embarrassment and her own comely happiness.

Darcy slowly moved toward his friend. He had lurked long enough, and decided to seek shelter from the neighbors and attempt to engage in a conversation with his friend. He found the groom vigorously shaking Mr. Charles Lucas' hand.

"Yes yes, Lucas! I couldn't be more pleased with my results."

"Again, I will tell you, Bingley - I wish you my deepest congratulations. You and Mrs. Bingley shall be prodigiously fulfilled, I am certain that marriage will suit you both."

At that moment, he reached them, and nodded his head in greeting to Mr. Lucas.

"It was very gracious of you to attend your friend, Mr. Darcy. I assume you had just settled in London when Bingley here compelled you to travel yet again."

"It was no trouble," Darcy responded in earnest. "Bingley is my closest friend. I would not miss this happy event for the world."

Bingley glowed with the praise, and even seemed to turn a shade pink. Slapping Darcy's back, he looked like he wished to jest, but the only words that left his lips were: "Thank you, Darce. Thank you."

Mr. Lucas smiled as he looked about the room. "Bingley - you have brought much joy to the Bennet family. I am certain they are pleased to finally have a brother. And Mrs. Bingley has never looked happier."

Darcy's eyes again found the bride, who was, indeed, glowing. How had he missed her depth of feeling? He bit back a bitter laugh. He should not be bewildered by her previous reticence. As Bingley had said those weeks ago, Darcy knew how to repress his emotions.

Like a hex, his eyes fell to his beloved, who grinned at her sister and another woman, perhaps some years over thirty, dressed in a modest yet fine gown. The three found the party of men, and started making their way toward them. Darcy's heart constricted. It was so easy to imagine that Elizabeth's elated aspect was meant for him. But her laughing eyes met Bigley.

From another direction, he heard Miss Bingley call for her brother.

"Charles! Charles, say goodbye, brother. Louisa and I must depart now if we are to make it to London tonight, brother."

Darcy and Mr. Lucas exchanged a knowing look: there was plenty of daylight for the trip, and Bingley's family could stay a few hours yet. Still, it seemed Bingley's sisters would use any excuse to escape.

"Mr. Darcy - you mustn't tarry. Why not leave now, and we can return together."

"Ah- but sister, Darcy will be remaining at Netherfield! As my best man- he has the grand duty of ensuring I leave this delightful party at a reasonable hour!"

Miss Bingley sneered, but Mr. Darcy's attention was immersed in another.

The trio of ladies had come upon the growing group, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet choked out a startled "What?" Elizabeth appeared thoroughly stricken.

"Yes, Lizzy!" Bingley erupted with laughter, as his eyes twinkled at his bride, oblivious to Elizabeth's distress. "Sister, you shall have company tonight. Caroline, Louisa, you mustn't worry about me or Jane. Lizzy will see to the charges of a sister. Travel safely, Caroline, Louisa. Hurst, thank you for attending. I am the happiest of men."

With little fanfare, Bingley's family left the Bennet's home. Yet in that moment, Mr. Bingley was reintroduced to new relations. Darcy struggled to keep pace with the conversation; his was too busy observing Elizabeth's juxtaposed beauty and discomfort. The new woman expressed her warmest congratulations to her new nephew. The rational measure within Darcy comprehended as the woman was identified to be the Bennet sisters' aunt, Mrs. Gardiner. Bingley had met her in London while attending to business and escorting his fiancée. The impassioned measure within Darcy was still stewing over his slow understanding: Elizabeth Bennet would be spending the evening at Netherfield. Why he was stupefied at this revelation? It was common for a trusted loved one to accompany a new bride, to ease the transition from daughter to wife. He could only relinquish that in the presence of Elizabeth Bennet, he was constantly made a fool.

Yet he could not regret his choice to stay the evening at Netherfield.


	16. Chapter 16

As the wedding breakfast came to a close, Elizabeth scolded herself. She was feeling nervous. Nervous! Dastardly confirmation that she was related to her excitable mother! Finding a friendly face in Charlie Lucas, chatting amicably with her aunt, Lizzy sequestered herself to their company.

"Charlie - I need your sensible guidance!" She smiled at him, half earnest, half jesting. "How shall I regulate my impertinent manners? I shall be spending an entire evening with him!"

"Who, Lizzy?" Aunt Gardiner laughed with a teasing smile. "Your style may not be formal, but I trust your etiquette to please anyone - if only for _one_ evening."

"Ah- But, Mrs. Gardiner, Elizabeth will need to withstand the company of the impeccable, exacting Mr. Darcy." Charlie smirked. "Take heart Lizzy. When you are thoroughly vexed with him, you can call upon your love for your sister. You wouldn't want your zeal to cause her hardships, and on the very first days of her marriage, at that! Most likely you will be much in company with Mr. Darcy over the upcoming months while you are in town. You needn't make the situation any more troublesome than it already is."

"Oh yes," Mrs. Gardiner smiled softly, taking her neice's hand. "He might have spoken poorly of you once, but you are a smart girl, Lizzy. Further your acquaintance with the gentleman using a clear head; as Charlie said, for your sister's sake at least."

Elizabeth chewed her lip- Mr. Darcy irritated her so! But for Jane- yes, for the lovely Mrs. Bingley, Lizzy would do her best.

Over the general conversation of the dwindling celebration, Mrs. Bennet's exasperations could be easily heard. The Bennet carriage was not be to wasted on Miss Lizzy - Mr. Darcy's carriage was perfectly capable of conveying her daughter. Although that daughter might only be tolerable, a true gentleman could not banish a gentlewoman from a little three mile ride. Charlie noted to Mrs. Gardiner, "It appears her sentence will begin with the carriage ride over."

"I had much rather walk…" Lizzy mumbled.

"Oh Elizabeth," Mrs. Gardiner smirked. "Good thing I have extracted your promise not to muddy that gown."

"Oh" Elizabeth groaned with feigned defeat.

Charlie smiled lightly, his eyes flicking from the gentleman in question, shuffling nearby, and his playful friend. "It would be tragic to ruin it, Lizzy. Though the image of you walking so finely dressed amongst the cows and the fields is alluring."

Elizabeth gave an admonishing glare, though she could not contain the pink rising into her cheeks. "For shame, Charlie. I cannot condone your mocking - and thus I will leave you to find my trunk. From the looks of it, Mr. Bingley is very anxious to return the Netherfield. Aunt Madeline - I leave you to discipline my wicked friend."

* * *

The short ride from Longbourn to Netherfield was blessedly silent. A maid from Longbourn, Emily, had volunteered to ride with Miss Bennet and Mr. Darcy for propriety's sake. She had an elder sister who worked at Netherfield, and was pleased with this opportunity to visit. She was a mousy girl in the best of instances. Now, with Mr. Darcy's dark glower firmly fixated upon the carriage window, the girl virtually disappeared into the plush cushions of the well sprung carriage.

Elizabeth used this time to peruse a few poems from Wordsworth. She knew the lines essentially be heart, and purposefully chose this _easy_ reading for the _uneasy_ trip. The words calmed her like the comforting weight of a heavy blanket wrapped around her lap in winter.

As she read the words, she was determined to withstand Mr. Darcy's indignation throughout the evening with a bemused countenance and a careless smile. She was traveling to Netherfield for _Jane's_ comfort, not her own. And she _would not_ add anxiety to her dearest of sister's mind at this monumental time.

The ride was not long. They reached Netherfield, and Mr. Darcy darted from the carriage like a angry dog escaping the leash. Lizzy pressed her lips together to hold her impertinent comment to herself. It would not due to abuse the superior man in front of a servant. Emily cautiously awaited her mistress to depart the carriage. Elizabeth, taking a breath for strength, quit the vehicle, but was surprised to find her hand encased in Mr. Darcy's firm grip. Her eyes flashed to his, suspicious to his motives. Lizzy felt she had many experiences to substantiate her low expectations of his manners. Yet, she begrudgingly admitted to his supreme sense of duty, and gave him a slight nod of thanks once she reached the ground. If he performed his duty, he did so without mirth. His eyes were yet again dark and probing, and his frown was plastered to his face with such a permanent impression. Did this man ever smile?! Elizabeth blushed as she turned away and recalled all the instances his lips had turned toward the skies. How was it she could recount each annoying smirk or surprising tender expression?

Shaking away this startling thought, her attention was quickly redirected to her sister and brother. They were beaming as they exited the Bingley carriage. Charles warmly stated, "Welcome home - my mistress of Netherfield!" Jane's delight displayed in a rosy face and bashful gazes between the house and her husband. Elizabeth strained to hear her whisper a poor attempt at a joke: "mistress via rental." Bingley indulged her with a warm laugh, grabbed her hand, and directed her up the steps.

Elizabeth allowed pleasure to fill her breast: How happy her dear sister was! How amiable was her new brother! Her eye caught Emily's quick curtsey to her and Mr. Darcy, as she left for the servant's entrance, walking with a lightness of step which continued to please Lizzy.

"Miss Bennet," a low baritone murmured in her ear, notably close. Mr. Darcy's escort was extended, and Elizabeth acquiesced to politeness, and rested her petite hand upon his proffered arm. They slowly ascended the steps behind the newlyweds, allowing them some pretense at privacy. In a show of great affection and a slight flight of fancy, Jane was swept up into Bingley's arms, held as easily as a babe as they crossed the threshold. Jane gasped, which in her embarrassment, transformed into a bout of enchanting giggles. Bingley also laughed with a brightness of spirit Elizabeth marveled at. She had never seen a man so light, so outwardly jubilant. She bit the inside of her cheek, to keep herself from laughing- she did not wish to disturb their moment. In the same moment, her stomach churned with fear. Would she ever find such contented elation with a man? Was she capable of such joy? These distressing thoughts caused her step to falter; thusly she found herself in the most exasperating situation of thanking Mr. Darcy for his constant, strong attendance. When she peered up to mutter her thanks, she found his face similarly afixed upon his friend disappearing into the home. And again, the man confounded her; for his eyes did not contain rebuke, but instead something akin to her own feelings of longing and questioning.

* * *

Mr. Bingley had generously shown Lizzy and Jane their respective rooms, along with a lady's maid for each. He had deserted his friend at the steps with a simple wave of the hand, sharing offhand that they would meet again for dinner. Charle's skin with tinged with a shade of pink, as he asked Jane if she would like to refresh herself before a more extensive tour of the family wing. Jane demurely agreed, and desperately clasped her sister's hand. With a bow, Bingley wished them a pleasant hour, and asked Jane to enter their private sitting room just to the south of her room when she was thoroughly restored. He walked down the hall just two rooms, and disappeared into his chambers with a cat-like grin.

Jane herself rushed into the room, pulling her sister behind her. "Oh Lizzy - I am so happy, so pleased. But thank goodness you are here with me!"

Elizabeth let a small laugh escape her lips, and begged Jane to sit at the lovely vanity to relax. She did as she was bid, and Lizzy then slowly pulled the veil from her bonnet, and carefully divested the delicate adornments from her head. "There now," she smiled with a cheeky grin in the mirror. Resting a soft hand on her sister's shoulder, she cocked her head: "I suspect you believe you are reliant upon me, but I am quite certain your Mr. Bingley wishes to take prodigious care of you, and sequester his bride to himself all evening. Please Jane, have courage in your love for him. And for goodness sake! Eradicate any feeling or pressure to entertain me today."

Jane turned half way around in the chair, looking over her shoulder to delicately smile at her sister. Her eyes were full of tears, but Lizzy was certain the emotion was a tender one. "Thank you dear, sister. I am so happy you shall remain with me in the upcoming months."

"Oh, you shall tire of me soon enough. But your curses shall fall on deaf ears! For I shall not allow you to recant upon your invitation."

"I would never!" Jane laughed, thankful for the release. Yet the sincerity in her eyes could not be dispelled, as she requested Lizzy's help to change into a different gown. The second selection for the day was perhaps a little less fine, but Jane looked just as becoming in this dress, if a tad more casual.

"There - a goddess of the home." Elizabeth snickered. "Now - I am off to retreat to my own room and change myself! I must protect my skirts from creases and wrinkles. For, I foresee a good book in my future! And I was clever enough to bring some of my own selection. That is one thing I must persuade my new brother to amend. His bookshelves are comically empty!"

With a peck on the bride's temple, Elizabeth allowed one moment of tenderness again, as she whispered to her lovely sister the depths of her joy for her, and yet another congratulations. "Goodnight, dearest Jane."

* * *

With her elegant gown safely deposited in the lovely wardrobe (her very own wardrobe!), Elizabeth spent the next few hours comfortably lounging about her bedroom. A window seat made for a most excellent perch to read and watch the lovely day pass across the countryside.

The time for dinner approached, and Lizzy dismissed her lady's maid, Amelia, before the servant was able to flutter and fret about her appearance. "I am perfectly attired for tonight's company. There is certainly no need to primp and preen." Silently she added - _for a man who finds me barely tolerable_. With a quick glance in the looking glass, she bit her lip and repinned a stubborn curl, and left the room before she could notice it's inevitable escape.

Slowly roaming the hall, she was relieved to find a footman, who was able to instruct her to the main sitting room, where weeks ago she had awaited dinner with the hosts of Netherfield. Bingley had seen fit to set her up in the family wing this time around. Miss Bingley might be mortified, but she no longer held that authority. Was it Lizzy's vanity, or did she truly perceive a general air of relief about the servants?

She quickly found the sitting room and entered. A small smile graced Elizabeth's lips; Jane and Charles were not to be found. Her sparkling eyes then landed on her supper-mate: Mr. Darcy. He was still handsomely dressed, and she ignored the blush which crept up her neck. She combatted her sense of shame with humor. "Mr. Darcy, had I known you would dress for dinner, I would have kept to my bridesmaid dress. But as you see, I assumed more languid attire."

He stood formally as she entered, eyes impenetrable again. He sternly whispered the word, "nonsense," as he bowed. Taking a few steps toward her, he raised his hand to gesture to a small note.

"I am afraid Bingley has sent a note down. The newlyweds will be partaking in their own light repast upstairs. You shall have to make do with me tonight, Miss Bennet."

With a nod, Elizabeth took up her smile again. "Good. I am afraid, Mr. Darcy, that I encouraged Jane to adjust her plans as such, so I am not surprised. I cannot imagine my brother or sister wish to entertain. I am spoiled enough at the opportunity to escape my mother's laments of loss. I needn't my sister's attention tonight. Let them enjoy this special time together without a pert younger sister, disrupting their contentment."

His eyebrows creased and his lips frowned. "I am sorry, but you said loss? What loss could Mrs. Bennet mourn today?"

Insufferable man! Just because he was deficient of every feeling did not mean the rest of the world behaved in such a way! "You must think very little of my mother, sir." She tempestuously quipped. "Her first born has married today!" With a sigh, Lizzy forced herself to lighten her tone, for they must endure each other's company for at least dinner. "I suppose as a man, you are apt to forget. A woman leaves her family, her home, her very name at the altar. And my mother loves us all, very dearly. Perhaps Jane most of all." After a beat, in which Elizabeth realized they still stood awkwardly like unwavering columns, she walked to a settee and sat. She then became more earnest than angry: "I can not blame her- for Jane certainly has the most goodness out of the whole lot of Bennets. So, yes, my mother will, in her own fashion, regret and complain about the ways of the world. For Jane is now Mrs. Bingley, mistress of her own home, and never again to be seen as a daughter, but always as a wife. My mother does have a flair for the dramatic," (here, she noticed Mr. Darcy's eyebrows arch, as if sarcastically feigning surprise) "But until I am a mother, I shall not chastise her in this instance."

Elizabeth became aware she was perhaps prattling on, and pressed her lips together to silence herself. Darcy still stood in the middle of the room, stiff as a statue and eyes dark as a storm, afixed upon her. Elizabeth stared back, daring him to express his disapproval.

What she could not guess, was his gaze was not filled with condemnation, but with his own regret and languish. To think he and Mrs. Bennet might share similar emotions at this time! For _now_ his mind was punished with the image of small children with dark, mischievous eyes and curly hair clambering about a lovely woman with a joyous laugh and tempting eyes, taking in the satisfying sight of a husband in love. What he would not give to banish his love for her!

The silence reigned on, and Darcy could have blessed the footman who entered and announced dinner was waiting. Darcy walked to her, offering her an arm, and led her to the dining room, as was proper. Luckily the house had already expected a quiet evening. Although perhaps not wholly proper as guests, Darcy sat at the head of the table, and had placed Elizabeth to his right. She said nothing at his boldness, and enjoyed the soup which was quickly served.

Again his heart infiltrated his mind, and conjured up pretty images of the tension in the air melting into a comfortable, contented peace. The experience was formed from spending many evenings in such an intimate setting: as man and wife. He yearned to play pretend if only for an evening, and find some way to persuade her to confide in him, or even tease him again, as she had those months ago. But he was not a communicative man, nor was he skilled at trivial conversations with a woman he held in such esteem. Idle chatter had no place in his mental space - his spirit was too full of ardent passion and consuming rapture.

And as such, they spent the entirety of the first course in silence. Elizabeth bristled under the intensity of his gazes and the complete absence of even an _attempt_ at civility. When she was half way through the second course, she dropped her silverware and censured her table mate. "Mr. Darcy - are you aware we have spent an entire half hour with only the sound of spoons and knives industriously working? I am far too familiar with your unwillingness to speak, as we have conferred before, but this has become almost comical."

"I apologize, Miss Bennet. I remember that conversation you refer to. As we are no longer in ballroom, perhaps you shall indulge me in your opinions on books? I observed you read Wordsworth this afternoon. Do you prefer the romantics?"

Elizabeth determined she could abide a discussion on poetry. "Yes - though, as I expected, I assume he does not meet your standards. At least, that is the opinion of _your_ chosen poet, Byron."

He frowned at this statement, and Elizabeth presumed she could watch the thoughts working through his brain. He questioned how she could know he read Byron - it was not something he shared with even the closest of friends.

Smiling smugly, she teased him with an arched brow. "When we were in the library, that last day Jane and I spent here at Netherfield as guests. You, the stern, proper Mr. Darcy, were reading _Byron_."

He then understood he had been reading his pocketbook. Her observations and keen memory stoked his vanity. He easily remembered the poem which tormented him that afternoon: _I court the effusions that spring from the heart, which throbs with delight to the first kiss of love_. "Yes," he said stiffly, in between bites of food, "I _do_ enjoy Byron; but I also enjoy Wordsworth. Cannot a gentleman enjoy all the romantics?"

"I suppose. But you must have a favorite."

"And Wordsworth is yours?"

She ignored his evasion of her question, and responded. "I think I would agree to that statement. His opinions on nature greatly reflect my own. I have not had the opportunity to view all the delights of the country, and have enjoyed his evocative words as a substitute."

He tried to hide a soft smile, imagining her, tucked into a plush settee, enjoying the words of "Daffodils": _I wandered lonely as a cloud…_

"I can easily understand how you would appreciate his writing. It is completely within your character."

Elizabeth fidgeted uncomfortably in her chair at his gentle statement. It felt entirely _too_ personal. She chose not to comment, but instead finished her plate. Dessert was finally served, and Lizzy took a small piece of almond cake, thoroughly awaiting the end of their private meal. She did not allow her bitter feelings for Mr. Darcy to ruin the delightful indulgence.

She assumed that after the meal, the two would part ways for the evening. Considering her escape was eminent, she dared to ask him a provocative question. "Mr. Darcy - do you believe you will remain much in my new brother's company, now that he is, indeed, brother to the Bennets?"

Mr. Darcy's calm demeanor turned red; he looked thoroughly affronted. "Whatever do you mean, Miss Bennet?" He grimaced, dropping his fork with a quiet clatter. Never mind that he _did_ hope to avoid her company- it was too painful to bare. But her blunt question left him gasping for air. Was she suggesting she was expecting his addresses? What of her "friend," Mr. Lucas?! He typically did not put much stock into Miss Bingley's gossip, but in this instance he had.

"Well - it was simply suggested to me, by a certain friend, that you might avoid Bingley now that he was associated with mere country gentry. And, frankly, you have never concealed your … _opinions_ of myself and my family with much vigilance."

He quickly pushed the plate of deserted dessert away, and stared at her with furious eyes. "Miss Bennet - Bingley is one of my closest friends; I shall continue my friendship without consideration for such frivolous reasoning. And supposing I were shallow enough to care, as a man whose funds are steeped in trade, marrying Miss Jane Bennet, the daughter of a gentleman, should only improve his standing." Mr. Darcy brooded. Who had suggested such an absurd notion to her?

Elizabeth was somewhat surprised at his vehement rejection at the question, and could ultimately only be pleased. Jane and Bingley were unlikely to suffer some cut or loss of friendship; and if it was well for Jane, it was well for Elizabeth.

Darcy agonized over the bitter taste left within him from this conversation. Hoping to rinse the discontent from the air, he quietly requested:"Miss Bennet, might you indulge me with a short performance at the pianoforte?"

She could not hide the shock from her face, as she bit her bottom lip. "As you please, Mr. Darcy," she relented


	17. Chapter 17

Elizabeth was excessively aware (perhaps unreasonably so) of Mr. Darcy's rapt attention. Whereas she typically interpreted censure in his gaze, now, after dinner, she was not so certain.

He sat near the pianoforte, where he could watch her play without obstruction. She held firmly to the thought that he asked her to play in order to terminate Elizabeth's condemnation and finally begone from the dreaded dining room. Certainly he could not actually wish to hear her play?! Her cheeks flushed, struggling to understand just what Mr. Darcy was about.

They had entered the pleasing little music room, and she had left his arm in haste, desperate to extract herself from his touch. She busied herself and browsed the sheets in a basket of music. She found many pieces written to display the technical bravado of the player, which she refused to play. Elizabeth owned neither the skill nor the interest to perform such snobbish, self-important tunes. She played the piano in her own time, with her own way: for pleasure, not display. She wondered two things: would she be required to play a tune by memory; and just how much time could she whittle away without a word or a note? After a full ten minutes of shuffling through the songs, biting her lip with frustration, she sighed and chose her fate.

"Does Miss Bingley's selection dissatisfy you, Miss Bennet?" His deep baritone filled the silence of the room in a surprisingly soothing manner. Whereas in the past his tone was sharp and abrupt, she could now discern a sardonic attempt at banter in his voice.

Arming herself with an arch smile, Elizabeth turned to lean her back against the instrument. "It appears Miss Bingley's taste does not match my own. But neither do our purposes, I suppose. You shall regret your request, I am sure, Mr. Darcy. I give you leave to renege."

"Why not play, and allow me the courtesy of forming my own sentiment, Miss Bennet." His dark eyes seemed to pin her to the piano.

Feeling the heat rise to her cheeks, she struggled to understand the tumultuous emotions roiling in her stomach. Still, she returned his stare. "Ask, and you shall receive." She stated pertly, determined to ignore his gaze. Lizzy quietly slid across the instrument, ignoring the rattle in her knees yet desperate to sit at the bench: a bastion of strength in a sea of emotions filling her body.

Darcy continued to observe Elizabeth as she sat prettily at the instrument, fiddling with her dress and arranging the music. Darcy believed he had never seen her look more flustered. Her flirtatious words filled him with longing: If only it were as simple as merely asking for his heart's desire! Propping one leg to rest across the other knee, he was aware that his body's wish was just as steady as his soul's. Her apparent embarrassment at her bold words filled his heart was equal parts sadness and smugness, but he ultimately determined to quell his misery, and allow the evening to play out according to his tempting fantasies. He would remember every detail of this evening: preserve each memory to withstand a lifetime of rememberancs and retrospections.

Elizabeth began to play the tune, unable to quell the slight quiver in her hands. Darcy's experienced ear (his sister dearly loved to play, and hear dearly loved to listen) could not ignore the tremble in her fingertips and the occasional quick slip of a note. Yet he was thoroughly bewitched, fore she played with feeling and artistry, if not perfect execution. He chastised himself - how had he forgotten just how lovely it was to attend to her guileless recital? What else would he recall with only half-feeling?

With a keen eye, he observed her struggle to turn the page and return to the keys. He was filled with an intractable impulse; and for a few moments he foolishly struggled to banish the whim. But alas, he believed not of his own volition, he stood and with silent steps stood behind her. Until the moment to turn the next page, when he swiftly sat upon the bench at her side and lifted a strong hand to change the page. She was oblivious to his movements, as her eyes had been trained to the pages. Thus, his hand collided with hers, while her left hand struck keys with jarring surprise and dissonant chords. A startled "oh!" Escaped her rose lips.

"Pray, let me."

The subdued, strangled words hung in the air, sounding very much like a prayer. Elizabeth had stopped playing, her mind too shocked and distressed to continue on. His tone reminded her very much of that day, some months before, where they stood in the library of this very home. He had begged for forgiveness for that ridiculous slight. Had she given it to him? Had she forgiven him; truly forgiven? Her eyes froze to the keys, her embarrassment too strong to move. Her hand still burned with some unnameable energy from his touch. Her eyes quickly darted to his face, long enough to witness his earnest, surprisingly warm eyes, juxtaposed to his eternally firm, somber face.

She was entirely too jumbled and flustered to oppose his plead, and gave a short nod of affirmation, which seemingly authorized him to, indeed, turn the page. Slowly, she lifted her eyes from her yet trembling hands, to rest upon the pages. Physically, she could see the notes upon the white page, but her mind was filled with such a barrage of emotion that she struggled to start.

Had she ever been so near to a man before? She could hear his steady breaths, she could smell his distinct scent, it seemed she could feel the very little amount of air that existed between her arm and his. And her face flushed red, as she questioned: had she ever felt so awake? Alive? She felt gooseflesh sweep over each inch of uncovered skin. Was a storm expected? She could feel the charge of lightning stir through the air with such furious, frantic intensity.

She had to do something to escape the domination of the arresting spell. With a breathe, she forced her fingers to press the ivory keys, and the clear notes of the pianoforte shattered the silence, but did little to allay the bizarre aura. Instead, each measure of music seemed to soak up the fearsome tension, and implanted itself to the energy in the room and became a score in her mind. As she struggled to finish (even with the assistance of her page-turner), she was certain she could never hear the song again without remembering this heavy, stifling feeling.

As she came to the end of the piece, she wondered whether she felt relieved or Unnerved. As silence reigned once more, her hands finally calmed enough to quit shaking. The end of the song could constitute the end of her performance, and she could escape the room and the deadly electricity with a simple bob of a curtsey and a few steps to freedom. Yet she dare not move. She was trapped to the bench; her blood rushing and her skin sparking.

Instead of fleeing, she slipped away into another song. This Irish air she knew by memory, rendering Mr. Darcy's assistance unnecessary. As the simple tune played on with considerably more ease than the last song, he did not move. That is, he did not move from the bench. Instead, if possible, it seemed he leaned in ever closer to her! This tune didn't last nearly as long, and once complete, Elizabeth felt all the imperprioty of their positions. They were far too close. Her eyes didn't dare travel to his face - what would she find there? Instead they rested upon his hands: large and handsome and taut. They were not the hands of an idle gentleman. Small scratches and scars peppered his clear skin. But they were impeccably clean and trim. She watched in alarm as one rose, hovered over her own petite fingers, and brushed her bare knuckles slowly and reverently. Ever so gently, he caressed his bare fingertips to her skin. Did he suppose his touch would break her?

His gentle touch did break her threads of delusion. This was shocking behavior. Now she must, she must escape! She slid from the bench, removing herself from the air he breathed. "Goodnight, Mr. Darcy," she whispered. Her flushed pink face looked to the fine wood floor, but her eyes peered with a final puzzled glance to him.

His countenance she would forever remember - fore it was so decidedly different than any look she had seen upon his face, or any others, before. Eyebrows scrunched and twisted upward. Lips grimacing, one corner pulled down, the other up. Eyes narrowed but filled with a myriad of emotions: pain, regret, warmth.

It was, all together, a look which spoke to his understanding at her leaving, but his remorse that it must be so.

She disappeared to her bedroom, where she promptly locked the door, took in a lung full of air, and slowly breathed it out, willing her body to calm. She would remain thusly for far too long.

* * *

Darcy left Netherfield without seeing anyone but a servant. He had slept very ill, and awoke many times to a tangle of sheets, a cold sweat, and exceptionally vivid visions of kissing Elizabeth on that damn bench. Each dream became more and more amorous, until Darcy refused to shut his eyes, for fears of never again being able to look upon his friend's sister-in-law without turning beet red.

His treacherous heart had hoped he to find Miss Bennet at the breakfast parlor by the time he had dressed and identified which items he preferred to travel with him in the carriage. He knew Elizabeth was an early riser - certainly she would be downstairs by his arrival. But, perhaps for the better, he found an empty room set out with a modest array of food for his pleasure. Not an item appeared out of place. Perhaps she had slept far easier than he had, and she would join him yet! But after he finished his meal and completed his perusal of the paper, he was left as alone as ever, drumming his fingers atop the table in frustration.

It was selfish of him to be annoyed at Bingley. Yet he could not conquer the small pricklings of jealousy which sprung in his heart. The man was in his own personal Eden, while Darcy looked dully at the bowl of fruit, and struggled to vanquish inappropriate dreams and looked forward to his own personal hell.

He could wait no longer - for the sake of his schedule and his sanity.

He penned a quick note he instructed a footman to give to his master, when the time was right. He restated his congratulations to the couple, thanked them for their hospitality, and urged them to call upon him in London if he was in town when they made their own journey to the capital.

Whether he wished to reunite within days or months, or never, he could not decide. But by the time the carriage stopped afront Darcy House, the master was determined to leave her behind, even if his happiness was to remain with her.

Six weeks had never passed with such strife. His days were so painstakingly slow, while his nights elapsed with a quickness that left no time for real rest. He had retrieved his sister and her companion from his Aunt and Uncle's establishment. Georgiana was very happy to return to his home, but worried at his lack of society and friendship. He unintentionally darkened when she questioned his health, leaving her entirely too afraid to broach the subject again. But he found a sliver of comfort in the evenings, when she looked upon him with her quiet care. shy concern, and indulged him in his appeals for music.

Georgiana, while young and uncertain, was not blind. Fitzwilliam was miserable, and she could not conceive what he mourned. She had suggested one morning, timidly over strawberry jam as if it were nothing, that her brother was still upset with her. He had turned white, and in an abrupt tone convinced her most thoroughly that was not the cause of his discomfort. He loved her dearly, was not angry, and would do anything to further her recovery, if she would simply name the deed. In his anger, at least he did not deny his sadness! What she daren't ask was for him to confide his sorrow in her. Though, over the weeks, she believed playing confidant to her brother could increase her own confidence.

Instead, she took one small step toward that solution, and wrote to her cousin Richard. The colonel was Darcy's closet relation, and really more a brother than a cousin. Georgiana, though at first guilt ridden for calling for Richard without her brother's knowledge, soon felt placated. She found her brother that very day, haggard and almost asleep in his study, staring blindly into the flames. She sweetly kissed his temple, and sat with him, sharing nothing of consequence, but happy to distract him, if only for some moments.

* * *

Elizabeth's life fell into a deceivingly pleasant rhythm. She had never considered that Jane's marriage would cause such a disruption in her own life. And when she did consider such an alteration, she imagined the sorrow of losing Jane. Indeed, her existence was quite the opposite! She had her dear sister nearly to herself, and gladly gained Charles as a companion. She visited Longbourn often enough to visit her father, indulge in his book room and continue their chess matches. Her visits, both with and without the Binleys, allowed enough time with her mother and sillier sisters to love and enjoy them with more patience than she had held in many many years! To escape them for the relative quiet of Netherfield was a blessing, undoubtedly.

And then, the many joys of all the newness! She discovered many before unknown walks across the Netherfield lands. Though she still considered Oakham Mount her favorite haunt, there was an overflowing joy in exploring new patches of nature. And after a single week's time, she found a new weekly walking routine which allowed her to enjoy time with Charlie Lucas.

She had no cause for complaint. Yet in surprising moments of solitude and silence, times in the past - she treasured, she felt unjust fears and protests bubble within her soul. She had always been a romantic, but her intelligence and logic created a steady streak of realism, which she prided herself in. She had always cherished the ideals of marriage, yet thought upon that state with an air of indifference. Should she fall in love, she would be as ready as the next young woman to bind herself to another. But she had never yearned to be married; never coveted that relationship.

Living with Charlie and Jane changed all that. Their love for each other, while not exactly as Lizzy would wish for herself (they never trod into conversations beyond the wholesome, pleasant type), was still intoxicating. Jane's constant glow of joy, Charles' attention and devotion, their togetherness, their union, was enviable.

She found herself reexamining her august ideals on the tie between love and marriage; and on the definition of love itself! She thought back to that day, where Charlie posed the suggestion of marriage. She imagined they could live in a similar attitude to the Bingleys. And Elizabeth was certain Jane and Charles loved each other; why did she believe she was meant for more? Was there really more?

But whenever she felt close to reconciling herself to such a pleasant (and placid) future, the image of Mr. Darcy, sitting beside her on that dreaded bench, filled her memory. Her skin would shiver with just a shadow of that intensity, and she was left pondering why he continued to invade her thoughts.

Six weeks of outward laughter and inward consideration passed quickly in Hertfordshire. The three spent their last days at Netherfield packing and buzzing with the many opportunities to be found in town. Elizabeth could not help but express her desire to attend at least one theatre performance. She would have suggested the museums and operas as well, but did not feel it was her place to steer their plans. She was a guest, and would not allow her selfishness to dictate what the newlyweds desired for their itinerary. They spent a long day at Longbourn, promising many letters to all their family, and proceeded to travel the next day.

* * *

Author's note: I listened to Piano Sonata in C major: adagio from Haydn while writing the music room scene, in case you'd like to listen. And my personal favorite Irish air is "To a Wild Rose." Lastly, I'm not 100% pleased with this rendering of Elizabeth. But, we will carry on!


	18. Chapter 18

The Hurst townhome was a pleasant, surprisingly tasteful home in a moderately influential part of town. They were welcomed with little civility and even less fanfare. Bingley was visibly deflated at the cold greetings from his sisters. As they entered the family sitting room, Charles gallantly attempted to lighten the mood. "Caroline, Louisa - I have been the happiest of men! Besides your Hurst, of course," he winked to his sister, who couldn't contain an eye roll. "Where is the chap?"

"At his club, doing whatever it is you gentlemen find to while away the hours there." She answered flatly.

Lizzy smirked from the the back of the party as her brother persisted on (She was so pleased to call him thus). "Well, I am so pleased to be here with you both! While I am often an amiable man, but my sister Lizzy," here he caught her eye with his own mischievous glimmer, "she has determined that since the wedding, I have been unnaturally and impossibly jubilant!" Caroline and Louisa appeared less than impressed.

Elizabeth bit back a snide remark: the Bingley sisters would dutifully tamp down his bliss, and quickly bring Charles back into the realm of reality. Instead, when Charles laughed lightly, looking desperately to the pert young woman to assist in lightening the mood, Elizabeth joined along in earnest; Charles' cheer and Jane's peace would sustain her through this stay, and she was determined as their guest, to due her duty to protect them both from the malicious duo.

Charles continued to chatter about his happiness, while Miss Bingley scolded him for his outrageous emotions. "Really Charles - it is most ungentlemanly to be so animated!"

"Really Caroline! We are newlyweds!" He cried out in exasperation as Mrs. Hurst set about serving tea.

"Still! It is true," she sniffed.

Lizzy joined the discussion with a light tone: "Well, he cannot help but display his happiness for Jane, else he might implode! I have never met such a bright light as your brother, Miss Bingley. And that would not do - Mrs. Bingley is quite dependent upon him now. Her happiness is his, and his is hers; thus they are in a constant swirl of joy or anxiety, depending upon their mood first thing at daybreak. I can assure you, most days, they choose joy."

Bingley and Jane laughed lightly at the description of themselves, and Jane glowed as she spoke, "Tis true. His happiness is so dear to me. I strive each day to deserve him."

Charles's cheeks turned pink, as he grasped her hand and smiled, "Pish Posh, my wife! That is my duty!"

Elizabeth enjoyed the warmth of their love, feeling quite content in the vicarious situation. She chose to ignore the eye roll from Miss Bingley.

Once tea was finished, Bingley called for Caroline and Louisa to lead a tour of the house. Lizzy could discern in Miss Bingley's tone that she found the furnishings and decorations sparse and lacking, while Mrs. Hurst agreed with her sister's opinions, but focused more on the fine architecture. Elizabeth preferred an understated room to a cluttered one, and assured Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst that the spaces were charming. Elizabeth was clever enough to assume that funds were allotted to the street address, instead of the decor. It was a prudent choice for the sake of appearances, but Lizzy silently held firm to herself that she would choose a comfortable, pleasant abode over a haute location. She thought of her aunt and uncle's residence with a smile: _there_ was a life she would be pleased to reproduce.

Elizabeth smiled, as Jane and Charles surveyed the rooms arm and arm. Jane did her best to apply to the conversation with her new sisters; but it was a helpless cause. Bingley was all too happy to distract her with his own opinions and little secrets, which left Lizzy stranded to politely converse with Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley.

Caroline Bingley was much the same as ever: haughty, conceited, and certain she was above the current company. Mrs. Louisa Hurst somewhat surprised Lizzy. She appeared honestly interested in Jane's opinions and wishes, (though not Elizabeth's).

Though the townhouse technically belonged to the Hursts, Louisa was wise enough to see Jane as an ally. Her brother still augmented the mortgage, and Louisa was determined to ensure this continued. Deferring to Jane for some simple selections would certainly go a long way to safeguarding her relationship with Charles. But her good will could only stretch so far. Her opinion on Miss Elizabeth Bennet had not improved - indeed, perhaps it was even worse, now that she was related to the hoyden. But again, she was politic enough to allow politeness to prevail.

* * *

"Darcy, Hello my friend!" Bingley's bright voice typically provided a bemused reaction, but today, Darcy could not help but clench his teeth and ignore the grating sensation filling his brain. He had never envied his friend! All those times he enjoyed Bingley's solicitude and cheerfulness, Darcy had never once been jealous. Instead, he had simply enjoyed the man's happiness, and allowed his joy to lighten his own load. It was a very pleasant relationship. But today, he could answer the question which had haunted his carriage ride those six weeks past: He wished for six more before entertaining the Bingley party.

Luckily, Darcy soon discerned it was only Charles who had visited. With a simple greeting, it took little effort to persuade Bingley to share with him his obvious state of happiness.

"Indeed, Darcy - Married life suits me exceedingly well. I have not been so happy and light since I was a young lad, I think. Jane is the kindest soul which has ever walked this earth. And her steady affection has been a constant source of joy. Even the blandest responsibilities are filled with purpose now! I had no idea that a wife would transform so many of my feelings. But listen to me blather on … I am sure you are sick of me already! But you, Darce, I must be honest - you are quite altered! Are you feeling well, Darcy?"

"Yes. Yes, I am quite well, Bingley." Darcy quickly stated. How dreaded must he look if even _Bingley_ commented upon it!? Anxious to divert attention from himself, and appear undisturbed, he urged: "But please, go on- how have you spent your time, outside your chambers that is." He indulged in a sly smirk to strengthen the pretense of his well being. Darcy was certain from Bingley's vibrant eyes and relaxed manner that _he_ was indeed satisfied and well in _his_ situation. But anything, even listening to Bingley's happiness, was preferred to exposing his own prevailing discomfort.

Bingley flushed a shade of red which clashed with his coloring; yet even through his embarrassment, he could not contain a lopsided grin. "As I said, I have been very happy. We spent much of our first two weeks married sequestered together at Netherfield, as newlyweds should.

"If I am being completely honest, I was a little disappointed in Jane's request for Lizzy's company. But I can assure you, if your choice of a bride has a beloved sister, do not belittle her power as ally in your scheme for marital felicity. The frenzy of the wedding day made Jane more than happy to enjoy our time together, alone. But in the following days, she was somewhat anxious in the mornings. But after short durations with her sister, often before breakfast, and at times around mid-day, Jane was returned to her serene self. I do think I have Lizzy to thank for much of my success!"

After a chuckle, he continued: "In all seriousness, she is most considerate to our desires. She spent plenty of time out of the house, visiting Longbourn or walking about the grounds, as you know she likes. Indeed, she has traveled and surveyed my land much as you did! She often returned with lists of suggestions to improve yields and relations with the tenants. She is the most extraordinary thing; far cleverer than I. And such a conversationalist! Not that Jane and I struggle to talk; but at any hint of anxiety, Lizzy swoops in with the most bemusing comments, though never callous or ill-mannered. She does help both of us laugh at ourselves, just when it is needed. I always liked her, but she has become very dear to me - I should feel guilty, but after the cold welcome from my own sisters, I can say with certainty that Lizzy is my favorite amongst them!"

God! Could Bingley had chosen a worse topic of conversation?! Darcy's fingers tapped vigorously at his thighs, and then scrubbed through his hair. He could not contain the green monster coursing through him! Bingley was the most fortunate of men! Darcy had before wished so strongly to simply shout at the unfairness of life.

Bingley watched his friend's dark mien and tired eyes, and again redirected the conversation. "Do not think meanly of me for my preference, Darcy. Though you may not appreciate Lizzy's mirth, she is my sister now- and at that my favorite! I shan't allow you to glower at her."

Darcy's eyes went wide and his mouth hung open a moment as he stuttered, "Not appreciate her!?" He balked.

"Well, yes - your looks now confirm you do not approve. And you did nothing but quarrel with her at Netherfield - constant disputes!"

"Our arguments were harmless - Simply intellectual trials." Darcy contended. Bingley did not appear convinced. Darcy had not expected Bingley to know of his infatuation for Elizabeth, but he didn't think he hid his emotions so well that others believed he disapproved of her. "Truly, I believe Miss Bennet is a very fine young woman. I think very well of her."

"You do?" Bingley frowned.

"Yes!" He cried out. With a sigh, he sunk deeper into his chair and reiterated, more to himself than to his friend, " _Yes._ I think her a very fine young woman." _The finest._

Bingley looked from his drink to his friend, as he struggled to understand. Darcy's countenance had broadcasted such disgust throughout his monologue; did he not disapprove? "Darcy … What is wrong? You truly look quite unwell. Your eyes look hollow, I do believe you have lost weight. Have you slept? Have you seen a doctor?"

Darcy indulged in a moment of self-pity, his head rolling back into the plush of the chair, his eyes lifting to the ceiling. He hardly slept without visions of her, and no matter his consumption of brandy, he found no rest. He was too proud to see a doctor. His valet had suggested some laudanum to aide in sleep, but Darcy refused.

"Bingley - I shall be well."

"Perhaps you have been cooped up in this house too long, Darcy." Bingley suggested, his worry obvious. "Join us for an outing. Tomorrow we will walk Hyde Park at eleven. I suppose you wish to avoid that fashionable hour though … Lizzy is most desirous to see a play while in London - We could plan an evening around that! Let Louisa and Jane host you at the Hurst townhouse, you are always so liberal with us, let me return the favor."

The jealous creature raging inside him took control of his lips. Before Bingley had finished his request, Darcy conceded: "Yes. I accept." The words removed a boulder from his chest, and he felt he could breathe again. He would see her. Suddenly Darcy scoffed at his former belief. Six more weeks without her? No - No, he could barely withstand six seconds!

"You shall?" Bingley was surprised how quickly his friend acquiesced. "Excellent!" He would not question his good luck. "Hah! Do you know, I have no clue what is showing - do you? I hope Lizzy shall like it."

Darcy frowned. "Shakespeare's _As You Like It_." How would he withstand an evening complete with the Bard's words in his head and visions of her in his sights? A wry, painful smile whispered onto his lips. He would withstand it with pleasure.

Bingley quickly confirmed arrangements with Darcy. Three evenings from now, a dinner at the Bingley house, so that Georgiana could avoid the sisters, and then an evening in the Darcy box.

* * *

Elizabeth sat in her own small yet comfortable room, having dismissed a maid. The young woman had done a commendable job with her unruly hair; Lizzy felt confident in her own ability to dress the coiffure with the finishing adornments. She pinned white glass beads in clusters of three. Not quite as elegant as pearls, but far more practical.

She smiled into the mirror, as her thoughts of sensibility and rational led her back to her beloved friend, and the next adventure set before her.

A mere fortnight ago, Maria Lucas was married to her cousin, Mr. Collins, at an understated, pious service befitting a clergyman. How the same words had radiated such joy and promise just a month prior to that day had astounded Elizabeth. It was a gentle reminder that a marriage ceremony was not inherently estimable. Her days drifting in the haze of the dreamy Bingley union had clouded her judgement and challenged her principles to marry only for the deepest of loves. Lizzy was ashamed to admit, if only to herself, that a man like Charles Bingley would not move her heart as it did Jane. Her lack of response to such a _good,_ _amiable_ man compelled her to consider the happiness of a marriage to a man she could respect, befriend, admire, if not adore.

She was still unconvinced whether her outrageous expectations of passion were worth ensuring; but she was certain that she would not marry for mere comfort and security. Elizabeth felt no regrets as she watched Mr. And Mrs. Collins leave the church arm in arm.

At the wedding breakfast, Lizzy slowly approached Charlie, suddenly a little flushed. He was spreading his typical quiet but good cheer, all whilst influencing his neighbors and friends to come around to whatever prudent action he advocated. Lizzy admired his subtlety, and occasionally wished she was as effective. But in this moment, she found her mind wondering if Charlie watched the ceremony of his sister with his own hopes in mind and heart.

Her own head and heart were at bitter odds with each other on that account. She imagined the happiness Charles and Jane shared could be replicated in a relationship between herself and Charlie. The mind compelled Elizabeth to understand a sensible marriage would be far more pleasant to a life of solitude and emptiness. Though she could remain the loving spinster aunt in the house of the Bingley's, she wondered if she would prefer the independence of her own home.

But her heart staunchly held onto her former beliefs, her desperate desire for something _more_ : More than Charlie Lucas; even more than Mr. And Mrs. Bingley. But fear had a way of creeping into the shadow of that hope, and laying out longer and larger than the wish itself.

Charlie's warm voice cut through the dim of the room, "Excuse me, gentlemen - thank you again for joining our celebration." And with that, he left the group and walked to meet Lizzy. "I believe I can ascertain what you are thinking, Lizzy."

Lizzy gave an arch smile and raised an eyebrow at his statement, willing her embarrassment away. "Is that so? Are my thoughts and motives so easy to discern?"

"To me, yes, they are."

Silence ruled them for a moment, as Elizabeth struggled to maintain her jesting smile, and he appeared to be taking stock of his tactics.

And after a heartbeat, he grinned and broke the seriousness: "Though I will own it has been the work of a lifetime. You needn't worry about being easily understood."

"Good." She laughed, happy the tension had lifted. "You know I always attest to finding complex characters the most interesting; I could not abide being outside that circle. Shall you test your theory? What _am_ I thinking at this splendid affair?"

"Why, you are counting your blessings that you are not bound to the man my sister has chosen." Grinning, he added in a whisper: "To be honest, I am as happy as you are; you haven't the patience for a husband such as Mr. Collins."

Her eyes swept the room to find the object of their discussion, in a flurry of bows and profusion of slightly self-important niceties. "Your life's study has not been for naught, Mr. Lucas," she smirked.

"My cleverness knows no bounds," he chuckled. "But Elizabeth, I come bearing a request of you."

Lizzy's eyes widened slightly, her eyebrows jumping. "Yes?" She asked hesitantly.

"My sister. She has already begun discussing when she might see her family and friends next. I am to join her over Eastertime. At first, she suggested Kitty and Lydia to come with."

Here, their eyes moved to find the foolish pair of girls feigning whispers and bubbling with outrageous giggles. In that moment, Elizabeth decided they both looked very young indeed. Half her heart rebelled at their gaucherie; the other warmed with the vision of blissful ignorant youth. "I cannot believe that Mrs. Collins' life will relate to her current friendships." Lizzy spoke delicately.

"My thoughts exactly." Charlie nodded. "Maria has chosen her future, and will leave that frivolity here in Hertfordshire. But I advised her that someone of a stouter character might join myself and my mother…"

And with that statement, Elizabeth's gaze landed upon the bride, who caught her look, and happily rushed toward the pair.

"Charlie! Charlie - please say Lizzy has agreed to join your party in March! Indeed, Elizabeth, you shall be as welcome as my family. I shan't be half so frightened of Lady Catherine knowing you will be there, in time. I am certain you will know just how to impress upon her."

"With such an application, I find I cannot say no. Though, I shall need to confirm with my father."

"Of course, of course. Oh Lizzy - thank you so much. Charlie greatly esteems your opinion, I am certain you shall be ever so helpful."

Elizabeth smiled, thinking it funny that although she did not marry the man, Mr. Collins would still be privy to her sway.

"Splendid." Charlie smiled warmly. "Maria, perhaps you could write Lizzy, as we do have some time before the visit. I am sure you would benefit from a capable woman's council."

"Would you write, Lizzy?" Maria meekly requested.

"Maria, I would be happy to further our friendship and exchange letters."

"Mrs. Collins!"

Maria did not recognize her new title or her new husband's voice, until Charlie urged her on. Her eyes grew wide with disbelief, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and she stifled a giggle behind her hands. Darting off after a quick and affectionate "thank you," the two were left alone amongst the party again.

"Thank you," Charlie concurred, his hand grasping hers with a squeeze for a moment. "I believe Maria will need a friend, and I know you shall kindly steer her to a more successful future."

"It is my pleasure," Elizabeth replied, almost surprised at her own sincerity. But she did feel pleased to assist a young woman with a long journey in front of her.

Still pleased with her decision to support her friend, Elizabeth's eyes watched her reflection in the mirror; she wore the same floral dress she wore to the Bingley wedding. Lizzy devilishly smirked to herself, with a final assessment of her likeness. The gasps and chides from the Hurst and Bingley sisters filled her heart with humor; they would be appalled that she would wear the same attire, and would guise their censure in the form of a question: Did she not remember that Mr. Darcy had already seen her in that dress! He would think she was daft, to rewear such a thing!

"It appears I am not the only person with silly relations. At least my sisters have the alibi of age. Mr. Bingley can claim no such rationale for his sisters' absurdantity." And with that musing, she left her room with a copy of Shakespeare. She was determined no backhanded criticism or glaring stares of disapproval would dampen her evening.

* * *

Authors Note: Wow - this post took entirely too long to get through. My apologies readers!


	19. Chapter 19

_I usually save notes for the end, but after a few comments a change has been made to the last chapter. If you'd prefer not to retread, note that Mrs. Lucas, not Sir William Lucas, will be traveling with Charlie and Elizabeth to visit Maria._

* * *

The day of Bingley's visit was a tortuous haze of rereading the same lines of Mrs. Reynolds script, pacing in front of his study window, and foregoing work for his pocketbook of Byron. With her bewitching presence in his mind, but absent from the room, Darcy was better able to read that delicious poem which would forever bring visions of her full lips and sparkling eyes.

 _Away with your fictions of flimsy romance,_

 _Those tissues of falsehood which folly has wove!_

 _Give me the mild beam of the soul-breathing glance,_

 _Or the rapture which dwells on the first kiss of love…_

 _I hate you, Ye cold compositions of art!_

 _Though prudes may condemn me, and bigots reprove,_

 _I court the effusions that spring from the heart,_

 _Which throbs with delight to the first kiss of love…._

 _When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past-_

 _For years fleet away with wings of the dove-_

 _The dearest remembrance will still be the last,_

 _Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love._

Oh how he longed to capture those lips with his! His fingers curled into fists; knuckles white with passion. He could have so easily laid down the yoke of duty, and grasped her chin upon that piano bench, and indulged their desires. Groaning from the very real tension spurred from his fantasies, he dropped the book upon the side table, and paced again, returning to his desk to muddle through the missives from Pemberley once more.

But his eyes scanned the words fruitlessly. Eyes found no understanding; only vague letters scrawled across the page. "I am weak. Heaven, forgive a fool in love, for I cannot find it within me to regret my infirmity." And with this dejected grievance spoken, he tossed the letter aside and lept from the desk to the sanctuary of poetry.

The hours crawled away as he indulged his passions through the words of Byron. His mind conjured up images of her and him, and his eyes darted to the clock to count away the minutes till they would meet again.

A knock at the door an hour before dinner pulled him from his fantasies. He was surprised to find his man introduce his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam into the room.

"Richard? Is all well?" He asked as he stood from his armchair, frowning from the surprise visit.

"I am well, Fitz - thank you for your concern, cousin." He approached, and the pair warmly greeted each other with an affectionate embrace.

Darcy let out a great sigh, as he declared with relief, "Oh, Thank Goodness! I thought you were on duty for the next three months, Richard. Has the situation improved so much that the office is distributing leave?"

"Well, I admit I am still on duty. But family concerns have convinced me to take some time."

"And what concern is that?"

"You, of course."

"Me!?" Darcy barked, taking a step back, a scowl filling his features with a mixture of anger and confusion.

Richard rebuked his cousin: "Yes, you look very ill, Fitz. And thin! Our charge is most fearful for you."

Darcy turned away, walking to the window, as was his wont. "Georgianna is easily distressed these days, as you know…" His voice trailed off, as his heart clenched with pain. He was _her_ guardian! To know his behavior had worried her enough to call their cousin filled him with shame. "It seems I shall need to exert myself more to convince her of my wellbeing."

"And what shall you do to attempt to deceive _me_? I have always been able to smell out your lies. And you a currently steeped in that stench." A dry laugh escaped his teasing grimace, as he pulled Darcy's arm and forced him back into his seat. "Now - Cease your stubbornness and tell your elder cousin whatever is the bother." He walked to a sideboard, confident he would find it stocked with fine brandy, and proceeded to liberally pour them each a tumbler full.

Darcy resisted the temptation to share all with Richard. They often indulged each other in their troubles; their relationship was closer to that of brothers more so than cousins. But he could easily imagine Richard's scalding laughter when he admitted that he found himself helplessly and painfully in love, and with an unsuitable woman, at that. As well as Darcy knew, Richard was not prone to romantic sensibilities. He often noted that he needed to marry richly in order to maintain his habits. Perhaps more importantly, Darcy had never divulged his own fanciful hopes. He chastised himself again - how odd that a man so determined to uphold his duty and be a fair master to those reliant upon him, would find himself brought low by such a bewitching creature.

A glass of spirits was pushed strongly into his hands, and his dark eyes watched the Colonel take the seat across from him. Richard took a generous swig, let out a biting sigh, and turned his full attention upon Darcy, quietly prompting him to begin.

Darcy struggled to contain his blush, and looked down upon the dark liquid, searching for guidance while swirling the cup. In an effort to stall, Darcy started a series of starts and stops, grumbles and grunts, and slow sips of brandy.

But the life of a Colonel had extended Richard's patience, and his sharp gaze never left his cousin. He let out a small growl of his name: "Fitz…"

Darcy's wondered when his pride and endurance had seeped away, as the words fell from his mouth in exasperation. Though the answer was easy - they left him when she cast her spell of charm all those months ago. "I'm in love, Richard, alright? _Love_!"

"Love!?" Richard startled back, his eyebrows lifting high on his face. Darcy glowered as he awaited the barking laugh, and was honestly surprised when it did not fill the room. After some moments of calculating introspection (he was quick and sharp as a tack), Richard continued: "Well - I suppose she must be a mistress, or actress, or some other unseemly profession, to cause you such angst. But such things can be overcome, Darce."

"No, no!" Darcy quickly called out, his face turning even redder at such a suggestion. His stomach did flips as his mind unwillingly conjured up imaginings of his dear Elizabeth in such situations. "No - it is nothing quite that bad. I hadn't believed it could be worse, but that would be awful indeed!"

"You wouldn't be the first man to love such a woman."

"But I would be the first Darcy."

"Ah, yes, that damned family pride of yours."

"You cannot say you are immune to the feeling yourself."

"No , I suppose not," Richard smirked in return, pleased to pull his cousin into this easy banter. "Well, if she's not a strumpet, whatever has you so blastedly ill."

Darcy proceeded to unload his heart upon his friend; after such an outrageous suggestion by his cousin, he first questioned his own self-despondency. But as he shared the tale, he remembered her wild sisters, her callous mother, and even her father, who failed to expect the propriety that was so sorely needed in that household.

"You may think these things are of little consequence, but you have not met them, and been in their company for weeks on end. Miss Elizabeth Bennet is a bewitching woman, but I cannot condone her family, share them with Georgiana, or bring her into our circles without fear of the repercussions. Much is expected of me."

"You've always cared too much for the opinions of others, Fitz." Richard retorted. "You are a rare man - young, of means, intelligent and deeply caring. What do you care if the ton will scoff at her lack of dowry and connections? You have enough to sustain the both of you, and more! Darce - you are digging your own grave. Take a look in the mirror, man- you are pale, you are tired, you are indecisive and timorous. Why? You have been the cause of the pain, and you hold the power to your own future happiness."

"Perhaps…" Darcy frowned. "If I _were_ to overcome these measures, there is a possibility, a rumor, I suppose, that could deny my joy."

"Which is?" Richard prompted.

"She may, or soon be, engaged to another."

"Then it appears your decisions and stratagem, like all men's, are under the Mighty regulation of time. " With that, Richard stood up and forced a smile upon his lips. "I am going down to dine with Georgiana. I shall inform her you are disposed for the evening." With a swift pat on the shoulder and a nod of the head, Richard left with a determined step. Darcy watched him leave, his mouth full of a bitter taste. His only response was to drown away the bite with a final gulp of brandy.

* * *

Darcy had been tempted to walk out at Hyde park the following day, as Bingley had noted they would all be out taking in that great greenery. But his mind was still muddled from his conversation with Richard, and as much as he wished to see her sparkling eyes and hear her lilting laughter, he could not find the nerve to venture out at the hour of high fashion. The ton's eyes were never closed; and if he was not resolved, what expectations might he induce in _her_ mind? He also took to heart the concern his sister had shown for him, and was determined to alleviate her worry. He spent far more time with her in the following few days; and even tried to lift her spirits by noting that he would visit the stage with Bingley. Georgiana was happy to avoid some certain ladies, and they discussed _As You Like It_ to great degree.

When he could count the hours until their dinner on one hand, he was again a mixture of distraction and nerves; he cleverly escaped Georgiana's notice; he had sent her off to the Matlock House for an evening party with very close family. This made for an excellent excuse when the Hurst house asked after her. His valet had the rare and challenging test of enduring a litany of in decisions. Darcy had switched coats three times, until settling for the typical, yet perfectly tailored black he felt most at ease sporting.

The steps to the Hurst townhouse had never looked so long nor so tall. Scowling at his own nerves, he took them two at a time. He could not contain an eye roll, as his mind conjured up Richard's chides at his cowardice. Using his cane to knock at the door, a servant quickly welcomed him in, and took his hat and greatcoat- though spring was in their future, London still held onto a damp chill, such as required the additional attire. The Hurst's man led him to a pleasant drawing room, where he was introduced to the comfortable party.

Darcy was suddenly covered in a clammy, cold sweat, which could not break. Had he ever struggled to breath like this? As he bowed to the occupants, Miss Elizabeth was missing. His heart seized - where ever could she be? Was she well?! Mrs. Bingley looked very well, and approached him upon her husband's arm. Darcy, through years of practice, completed the pleasantries with curt civility, while his mind roamed the halls of the home, grasping for her spirit. Bingley hummed with excitement: "Darcy, you really are the greatest of friends! This first evening I take my wife to the theatre, she shall be encompassed in the finest luxury the Darcy name mandates! A _Bingley_ box would cause such a crane in your neck dear!"

Mrs. Bingley blushed rose, and scolded her husband for such self-deprivation. "Charles - you have been more than accommodating to my desires. Though, Mr. Darcy, we do thank you for your generosity."

Miss Bingley jumped at the opportunity to be in Mr. Darcy's company again, especially these few moments without the pert Miss Elizabeth, and led him to a seat near her designated place. He complied through no active thought of his own: his eyes darted from the window to the door, as his heart thumped with such vigor, he expected Miss Bingley to compliment him upon his strong constitution.

And then - as if he had willed her into existence - she appeared like a vision. His eyes bore into her, drinking in her curled upswept hair, her dark eyes, and the gown which had filled his dreams with church bells and vows of everlasting devotion. He had stood rather abruptly; Miss Bingley frowned at his obvious distraction from her story.

Elizabeth stopped in the doorway, her own eyes drawn to the large, dark, statue that stood solemn and erect. Charles stood, in contrast, grinning like the fool he most certainly was. "Lizzy - you look very well tonight. Are you excited? I was just telling Jane, I am so pleased Darcy had allowed us to attend in his box - it really is the best way to attend." His eyebrows waggled, and Elizabeth replied with an eye roll, as she struggled to keep her eyes from Mr. Darcy.

His presence filled her with a long forgotten feeling. At times she wondered whether she had imagined those crushing, staggering feelings at all. It was intense - part fearful sparking lightning, part vehement rankling. And a final low hum or buzz that covered her skin in gooseflesh which she insisted to herself could not be. In this storm of emotions, Elizabeth struggled to contain her peace. Yet she prevailed, and curtsied to their guest, greeting him with a soft pink across her cheeks. Standing there, amongst all the others, she could only wrestle in silence with her reaction, and then their memories: Of his general arrogance, and of their last encounter.

Determined to appear undisturbed to the household, and perhaps more importantly, Mr. Darcy himself, she spoke with in a measured tone. "Mr. Darcy - I look forward to tonight. I must thank you for your invitation to your seats. Though I have been perfectly pleased in the past to attend with my aunt and uncle, I am sure Charles speaks from experience that a box affords some improvements in view."

He struggled to reply, as he often did in her presence.

And then, with that opportunity to retreat, Elizabeth lithely whisked away to her sister, and continued a previous discussion about the themes of the show to consider.

"I don't know how anyone could enjoy the arts from the masses. I would never attend unless in the proper fashion," Miss Bingley sniffed, suddenly beside him. Then she feigned a whisper: "Can you believe - Miss Bennet wore that gown to Charles' wedding! She is lucky the ceremony was held in Hertfordshire, we shan't see anyone from those circles tonight, I am sure."

Darcy absentmindedly stared at the criminal of Miss Bingley's trial; _he_ would be pleased to see her at _any_ event in that _exact_ attire. As his mind soaked in her image, and Miss Bingley gawked, awaiting a response, dinner was announced. Caroline was pleased to attach herself to her esteemed guest, and purred some reassurances that Mr. Darcy should be most pleased with the dishes she had organized for the evening. The number of couples meant Miss Bennet was unaccompanied, but her poorly hidden smirk suggested she was not offended, but instead amused at his unfortunate situation. He planned to offer her his other arm, but was outpaced by Bingley.

The seating arrangements were obviously suited to Miss Bingley's desires, as Elizabeth and Darcy were as far apart as possible. Intimate conversation was impossible between the pair, and Darcy spent much of the meal ignoring the food which felt like sawdust in his mouth, and staring down the table toward Elizabeth. She skipped between delighting her sister and withstanding Mr. Hurst.

"Mr. Darcy," Miss Bingley's cooing voice cut through his reverie and the discussions occurring around the table. "You are a great admirer and critic of the arts, I believe. Can we expect any great performance tonight? I defer to your creditable understanding of these things."

Such a speech could do naught but disturb his mind; her deference was obsequious and overt. The entire table looked to him, and even amongst this company, with whom he was incredibly intimate, he felt his reserve consume him. Why was this woman so tedious! His eyes met Elizabeth's and found them twinkling with delight, and an eyebrow arched, betraying the smile she aimed to hide behind a napkin.

"What have you heard of the production, Darcy?" Bingley added, with honest interest.

"I have no more information than you." He replied dully.

"But however shall I prepare my opinion, Mr. Darcy, without knowing yours?" Miss Bennet inquired, with a mischievousness hidden from her face, but alive in her eyes. "Ah, I can tell by your looks that you do not expect to be impressed. So I shall champion the performers before I have laid eyes upon them." She laughed lightly. "I declare that the evening shall be marvelous."

"Well, Lizzy, that is certainly true, no matter if the actors forget their lines or trip on stage! A night amongst friends- it will be absolutely lovely." Bingley glowed with the perception that he had outsmarted his sister, for once! Jane smiled with delight, and her lips quirked in a line, far closer to her sister's than Darcy had seen before. "Charles has bested you, dearest." Her tone suggested a teasing: _that shall teach you to stir up trouble, Miss Bennet!_

Lizzy bowed her head, admitting defeat. "I am certain Mr. Darcy and I will argue about this rendition of the bard until the rest of you are blue with boredom."

"Debate."

Elizabeth turned to the man in a starched white shirt and a steamed black coat. "What?" She questioned.

"We shall _debate_ the merits of the show; not argue." Mr. Darcy corrected. He was disturbed that even she mischaracterized their interactions as arguments!

He was not granted a response, as she lowered her eyes to her plate, and delicately continued her meal.


	20. Chapter 20

Deciding travel arrangements to the theatre was a fumbling dilemma. Bingley was adamant on taking his own carriage, which was newly purchased for the comfort of his wife. He was quite transfixed with the image in his head of their upcoming entrance to society. He had gifted Jane some delightful, delicate earrings of blue aquamarine and pearl, which perfectly accented the sky blue gown she so elegantly wore. As such, Bingley, wore his royal blue coat, and announced his wife and her sister would travel via their new coach.

Darcy had hoped to join his friend, but no invitation was offered. In the awkward silence in which Mr. Hurst was too distracted with his cup, and subsequently did not offer up his own conveyance, Darcy found himself extending the offer of his own carriage. Miss Bingley cooed that the Darcy carriage was the most pleasant ride she had experienced, and thanked him with such a cloying sweetness that it was simply sickening. With a sigh, Darcy decided it was better to arrive in his own carriage than in the Hurst's. The ton was always eager to read into the actions of the smallest affairs, and Darcy had often conveyed the Bingley and Hurst families before. This arrangement would not raise any attention.

The vehicles were brought round, equipped with plush blankets for their comfort, and the parties departed, each with their own source of excitement: Hurst anticipated the drink and distraction, Caroline and Louisa the attention, Mr. And Mrs. Bingley the spectacle, Miss Bennet the performance, and Darcy her reception of it.

Upon reaching the theatre, Darcy was quick to escape the confines of their conveyance. It was odd how the mind could play tricks; he always considered his carriage quite large when traveling. Yet Miss Bingley had an extraordinary ability to fill Her presence in any space, to a stifling degree. He allowed someone else, perhaps Mr. Hurst or even the poor footman, the honor of assisting the ladies from the conveyance, and instead took a few steps and gulped a mouthful of fresh air (or as fresh as one could find in London). The carriages had kept a good pace, and Darcy watched as Bingley proudly descended his new equipage and handed his delicate wife to the ground. The pair glowed in such an accord that Darcy again felt his chest burn, this time with a heady mixture of envy and desperate hope.

And then Miss Elizabeth Bennet popped her head out of the door; with dancing eyes and the slightest laugh murmuring over her lips. How Darcy could pick out that teasing sound above the general drum of the entrance baffled him. She could easily see that the Bingleys were too enraptured with each other for Charles to help her down. Darcy took a few quick strides, but was left standing dumbly in front of her as she hopped down herself. He was certain he heard a scandalized gasp from the Darcy carriage. Surely Miss Bingley's list of faults added yet another item. Darcy was certain he would scold his own sister for such uncivil and rushed behavior, but it appeared that meant nothing to his lost heart. He found him esteeming Elizabeth even more. What Miss Bingley called _conceited independence,_ Darcy found bewitching.

"Yes - Thank you very much Charles," Elizabeth teased as she dusted off her lovely skirts, only to take a step and look up to find Darcy stiffly in front of her. She started at his tall form, his handsome mien, and his perfectly styled black coat. She felt a dart of lightning, and felt something akin to whiplash or deja vu from that dreadful, maddening night.

After a beat, it seemed Mr. Bingley escaped from the spell of his wife, processed the words his sister had called, and asked Lizzy whatever did she mean? Elizabeth took this opportunity to turn abruptly from the befuddling man, and join her sister and brother.

Though Elizabeth wished to needle her sister and brother, she found them too picturesque; the epitome of two newlyweds was too lovely to admonish. With a warm smile, she sighed and admitted, "Oh, I only meant to say that you have made my sister so happy. Thank you for your fine attentiveness to her."

"Lizzy! You are too kind. And as you know, _Mrs. Bingley_ has made me the happiest of men." His intimate tone caused another bloom of pink to spread across Jane's cheek, as she demurely murmured: "Shall we?"

* * *

Darcy had been crafty enough to ensure Miss Bingley could not take his elbow. Instead she was destined to enter the theatre with her brother-in-law. He could have kissed Bingley when he positioned the seating arrangement to showcase his new wife and sister, and was equally firm that Darcy must have a front row seat. It was his box, after all! "Besides, Caroline, you do not even enjoy the show - we all know you come to watch the people seated before the stage, not those upon it."

But when the time came to sit and observe, somehow Elizabeth was at one end, and he was at the other. Instead of indulging in her opinions and reveries, he heard Miss Bingley chattering on: which outrageous outfit had she seen, what improper behavior she could view from the box, what dreadful styles throughout the poor-mans seats!

In a sad attempt to see Miss Elizabeth to a better advantage, Darcy leaned forward, his forearms resting upon his knees. It was an incredibly casual and obvious position, but he could not help himself. His eyes found a lovely woman, who tapped the program to her lips, who fiddled with the page, whose eyebrows quirked and lips moved to silently recite the lines. What other woman existed like her? How could anyone live up to her delightful charm and ferocious intelligence? In the dim glow of the box, he was certain he had never seen such a beautiful creature. To his eyes, she looked very fine indeed.

By the end of Act III, Bingley was bouncing his knees and tapping his toes in the most annoying fashion. With the announcement of intermission, the man practically leapt from his chair. Pulling his wife to her feet, he announced they would gather some drinks for the party. Miss Bingley and the Hursts followed them out, very happy to linger about the entrance to his box, thus showcasing their advantageous friendship. Elizabeth did not stand, but instead sat with her eyes affixed to the stage, with her thumb and middle finger resting upon her chin, while another gloved digit tapped ever so lightly upon her lips.

Darcy, suddenly filled with nerves, ( _Jaques_ did declare that "All the world's a stage", _he_ was merely a player, hopeful for a triumphant entrance!), slowly yet purposefully passed the chairs which separated them, and sat to her right. "Miss Bennet." He sought to control his quavering voice to a more measured calm, but could only achieve it when he slowed his words. "Are you enjoying the performance thus far? I can perceive you are filled with some opinions, though to what direction I cannot discern. Are you grasping for some genius from the actors which you can defend?" He was able to add a tinge of playfulness to his tone, as he desperately hoped to engage her in conversation. It dawned on him how he missed her quick and clever wit.

Elizabeth turned to him with a genuine smile which filled him with such a rush of emotion, he was not able to identify the feeling completely.

"No, Mr. Darcy - their skill, though perhaps not capital, is promising. I need not muddle to find traits to approve; they are available in abundance."

"Good, Miss Bennet, I am pleased to hear you announce it so." Darcy feared his overtness and turned slightly aside to gaze across the masses.

Elizabeth was surprised to find a blush spread across his handsome features. Surely he was just warm?

He dared to continue after a moment to recollect his thoughts, and asked: "Then what is it I see you considering so thoughtfully?"

"Oh, many things, of course."

"Might you share them with a fellow devotee of prose and poem?" He tried to tap the desperation from his voice.

"I find myself suspect of all the varying forms of love portrayed by the bard. I admit I am very partial to this performance of Celia. The devotion between her and Rosalind feels more true, more estimable than the absurd fancy which has overcome Rosalind and Orlando for the other. Rosalind shared my opinion of dreaded poetry, until she determined Orlando was the writer. I am still fond of her, and dare to believe she is aware of her hypocrisy."

"Perhaps your partiality is because you see the love between yourself and your sister in the former pair."

She nodded, "Yes, I suppose. But I do wonder - whatever did Shakespeare think of romantic love?! He is apt to showcase the foibles and ridiculousness of romance. Why is it that most of his plays portray love at first sight? Who in their right mind would do such a thing."

Darcy struggled to answer, and suggested some other couples as counterpoint.

"Oh yes, because Hamlet and Ophelia have such a healthy relationship," she smirked and rolled her eyes. With a sigh, she confided: "I believe _respect_ for one's partner a most essential condition for love," and, suddenly aware of the intimacy of her statement, rushed to conclude in a jesting tone: "Alas, I am convinced it was simply his way of regulating the run-time. One must be practical!"

Darcy's voice hummed with a low baritone which lilted from her ears to her mind's eye. "I believe Shakespeare was aware that love does not care about conditions, or stipulations. The first-sight trope is an exaggeration, as most plays are, of the very wildness, perhaps even randomness, of love. Logic, regulation, prudence: The passions of a man are heedless to such drivel."

Elizabeth felt her face flush. The man was capable of such interesting conversation and such a personal demeanor. Where had the haughty, proper man gone, and who was the quiet, yet open gentleman who'd replaced him.

The quiet drum of the hall was the only sound for some time, as Elizabeth determinedly stared at the empty stage, but was quite aware of his deep eyes upon her. Resolved to lighten the mood, she thanked him (whoever he was) in a light tone. "Mr. Darcy, I would be bereft if I did not thank you for your invitation. Jane and Charles are so obviously enjoying the night, if not the play itself." And then, with a mischievous twinkle, she added, " _and_ you have put me in the very off-putting position of agreeing with Miss Bingley. I must concede, this perspective affords a very grand view. Though - I will not quit the theatre all together, as I cannot expect to be indulged thus; so luckily we only align in the slightest of senses."

Darcy indulged a smile, and felt such a twisting of joy. Were they sharing their first secret jest? His smile faltered at her last thought- could she not see he would never permit her to attend below stairs again? First, he considered her statement as something between coyness and uncertainty, and he indulged his appreciation for her for a moment: "Miss Bennet - you do look very well tonight."

Her heart fluttered, her eyes grew wide, she pressed her lips together as her fingers fiddled with the program. Elizabeth felt she watched from outside herself as he reached for her hands to steady her fidgeting. She was filled with a tumult of horror, anticipation and confusion.

As Darcy watched her reaction, he first drummed with pride as he was certain she felt something for him. But then felt his stomach drop from his body, and his mind popped forward the memory of another man and a delicate rumor. He recognized that she might had been frank in her last statement. She could not expect such treatment if her future lay with Mr. Charles Lucas.

Bingley's laughing voice suddenly broke the moment, and Darcy snapped his hands back to himself, though he did not leave the chair. Instead he turned to his friend and faked a mask of calm. He gladly grabbed a glass of champagne from his friend, while Mrs. Bingley offered one to her sister. Elizabeth took it with perhaps a bit too much fervor, and drew back a long and decidedly unladylike-like draught.

* * *

Over the course of the remainder of the night, Darcy's eyes darted from stage to seat. Even with the drink consumed, Miss Bennet sat stiff and uncomfortable. He fretted at the cause. Was she destined to another, and uncomfortable with his attentions? Did she regret her chosen path and wish to renege to his arms? Was he over analyzing the situation? Was she simply a maiden, innocently affected by his closeness? He watched her with a hawkish eye, and calmed considerably as he observed it did not take long for the performance to again demand her attention. Even with his own thoughts distracted with the possibilities of her situation, Darcy had never enjoyed an evening at the theatre so much. Soon he found _her_ performance demanding his every thought. He was ever so content to watch her enraptured face. After some time, he dared to whisper a comment or a complaint, which she occasionally deemed worthy of a reply. And thus, they enjoyed the end of the show with such a friendly ease that he nearly forgot the fears inflamed just a half-hour previous.

The box was quitted and Darcy anxious to leave the crush. But his friend was of a different opinion. Bingley lingered and shuffled from one acquaintance to another, with wife and sister in tow. Mrs. Bingley was happy to remain upon his arm and meet his many friends. Elizabeth followed obediently. She was willing to pay the price of the endless introductions; she had thoroughly enjoyed the performance, and had promised herself to follow her brother and sister's lead, as she was their guest. She smiled and curtsied prettily to each specimen, and diligently attended to their names and manners. Charles was so genial to everyone that Lizzy could not discern which introductions were important and which were of a passing or limited familiarity!

In her rapt attention, Elizabeth was completely unaware of Mr. Darcy standing at the edges of those conversations, and glowering as many a man allowed his gaze to linger ever so slightly upon her lithe person. What he would not give to present her as _his wife!_ Sister to Bingley was well enough, but Darcy craved to provide her more. Again his stomach twisted. Must his mind deny him any happiness? He was haunted with the image of Charles introducing his sister and brother-in-law: Mr. And Mrs. Charles Lucas. The vision was sickening enough to urge him to take comfort in a fortifying glass of port.

After another awful hour, Bingley seemed to finally notice the ever darkening mood of his friend. He agreed to depart, and proclaimed the evening a decided success. Darcy, thinking back on the tumult of his time with Elizabeth, could declare no such statement.

* * *

 _Well this took entirely too long to post. Summer is filled with a variety of obligations and indulgences. Also, I had never actually read As You Like It and felt utterly unqualified to write any opinions. For a while a note simply read "Insert clever opinions here". A long work trip made for an excellent time to listen to the audiobook. I'm not sure my thoughts were clever, but I think they worked. Again, I still question this Darcy's openness of opinion and romantic streak. Luckily this Elizabeth is prejudiced/blind enough to continue the frustration._

 _I hope you all will stick with me through the craziness of the season! But I will not abandon._

 _Another note - I'm not certain champagne would be served at this time…_


	21. Chapter 21

Elizabeth spent the following days with a copy of _As you like it_ to reread and chat amiably with whomever would listen to her opinions or indulge her in her suppositions.

"I do believe that the _Touchstone_ we witnessed upon the stage completely misunderstood his character! I am certain his recital missed some of these lines… Jane, do you remember him saying: 'But as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly'? I do believe the actor portrayed him too much a rake. Shakespeare intended him to have a little more humanity than that."

The only response from the sitting room was a great sigh from Miss Bingley, a dead gaze from Mrs. Hurst, and Jane's gentle "hm?" as she became aware she had drifted off from the conversation.

"Really, Miss Eliza - your obsession has become quite unladylike. I thought it was a fine performance. But really, no one attends for the stage! The production and the show is performed by the audience, not the actors! Your … _exuberance_ easily identifies you as a country nobody." Caroline frowned at the invader's continued persistence.

Jane frowned at Caroline's words, but chose to deflect the potential argument and turned softly to her sister, admitting: "I am sorry, Lizzy - I did not catch your comment."

"Oh never you mind, Mrs. Bingley. And Miss Bingley - you are correct about one thing: all the world's a stage. I shall retreat to the garden, I believe, for a bit of fresh air." Elizabeth stood with a strained smile and quick curtsey, and fled before her sister could examine her expression.

The April air was humid and cool, but Elizabeth enjoyed it nonetheless. It was akin to the aftertaste of a rural breeze. London's dirty air could never directly compare to the country, but there was a hint of spring and freedom which would always be found, however small, in the outdoors.

Lizzy was quick to deposit herself upon a simple garden bench she had quickly thought of as her own. The Bard's book was still in hand, and she allowed her finger to strum across the leather cover, as she struggled to be honest with herself.

Firstly - her patience was thinning. This day marked two weeks and two days at the Hurst townhouse. She often believed herself a dutiful, patient gentlewoman, but she was becoming ever aware of her own selfishness and obstinance. Caroline Bingley was careful to simply sneer at her in their brother's presence; but when he was gone, she continued to delight in cutting Miss Eliza. Elizabeth regularly avoided the hurt by dueling back in a quiet, tactful manner, or simply laughing at the ridiculousness of the scorned woman's bite. But lately her humor was failing her, and her only chance at peace was to avoid Miss Bingley all together.

Secondly, she continued to struggle with an underlying melancholy. As she inspected the emotion from any angle possible, she determined only one likely agitator: self-doubt. Over her years, as a sister to four other girls, she had certainly dealt with indecision and even something akin to jealousy or envy. But the hurts of being called 'nothing compared to dear Jane,' or the pains of struggling to influence her younger sisters, or the injustice of being told you were to smart; all these weeds of doubt were easily pulled by the rightness of purpose she felt bringing calm and order to the Longbourn household.

But change had swept her up and knocked her off that established, certain footing. Jane's marriage showed her a glimpse of her future options: either married, or as beloved ward and sister, but forever a guest. What purpose was there to be found in such a life? The title of aunt would be dear to her, truly! But what she had always imagined as a perfect life - teacher to beautiful little nieces and nephews - now felt inadequate.

Which left the title of wife. But after years of rebelling against her mother's laments and fears, anxieties and torments, Elizabeth felt unable to jump blind and headfirst into that institution she had always been so suspicious of! For all the joy she witnessed daily between Jane and Charles, she only need remind herself of the _years_ living amoungst the strife and ridicule between her own mother and father!

Throughout her musing her fingers had happened upon the star jasmine which twisted it's way upon the fence behind her. A quick snap had picked a sprig of vine, with leaves red in the dormant state. Lizzy worried her lip and shredded the leaves as her eyes lifted to the sky, as if a message might be spelt clearly for her in the gloomy London sky. With a deep sigh, she dropped to scraps of flora and stood, determined to leave her moping behind. If an answer to her concerns was not evident now, she would leave the thoughts for yet another day.

Returning to her room, Elizabeth found a new task to distract her. Mrs. Maria Collins, nee Lucas, had written to Lizzy in the months since she had married. In a way, they could be considered family now- cousins indeed. Maria had begun the correspondence with simple observations of her new home, but within a few letters, had slowly begun to open up to Lizzy her uncertainties in her new place in life. It appeared Mr. Collins' verbose depiction of his noble patron was, if possible, a muted reflection of the woman. Maria wrote that the visits with Lady Catherine were more frequent and influential than she could have ever imagined.

 _… My brother has urged I be honest with you, Lizzy. And I know from all our happy memories in Hertfordshire that you shall not think less of me for the weaknesses I share upon this page. So I must confess, Lizzy, Lady Catherine quite frightens me! She can certainly see my weakness when in company together, and considers it her duty to impart all her superior opinions unto me. I have reorganized my dressing room three times since settling at Hunsford - for she is constantly adding new details on the only way to place one's attire. My gowns have been sorted fresh, along with my bonnets and ribbons._

 _Though I value her condescension, as my husband insists, I begin to worry she shall rule our entire lives!_

 _I could fill every inch of this page with my uncertainty, but I shall not. And so I find I am anxious for your arrival. You are so brave and clever, Lizzy. I am determined to study your conduct, and do my best to mimic wherever I am capable._

 _I send my warmest wishes for your safe travel, and I thank you again for your friendship, Elizabeth._

 _Yours, etc._

 _Maria L-Collins_

Elizabeth had never been especially close to Maria, but then again, Miss Lucas had been closer in age to her younger sisters. What had originally been done in service to her brother, had become an anchor in her sea of uncertainty. Providing subtle advice to a willing ear was fulfilling work.

With this feeling of steadiness and usefulness, Elizabeth found herself looking forward to the visit into Kent. Mrs. Lucas and Charlie would arrive in London in six days to accompany them on the trip over Eastertide.

Lizzy smiled at the signature - the girl had obviously not yet accustomed herself to signing the name Collins.

What might she sign her name one day?

* * *

Darcy had spent the following days after the theatre in a wretched state of indecision. Never in his life had his emotions controlled his actions and behavior so strongly or for so long. The evening had been a whiplash of joy and fear, perfection and torture. His entire life he had despised the ridiculous gossip touted about at dinner parties and at the club; now he found himself lingering about the tables at White's, desperate to hear some morsel of hearsay about Elizabeth's availability. Instead he struggled to restrain himself when her name was mentioned by a curious and intersted man.

When he was not languishing at his desk or the club, he visited his sister, to whom he insisted he was well. She asked him for an account of the performance, and he did his best to describe the action, but found himself making up some information to appease her. For he did not notice the costumes or the quality of the rendition. He was left describing the show to Georgi through the reactions of Miss Bennet. Throughout the conversation, he found himself wondering what delightful conclusions Miss Elizabeth would share with himself and his sister. Her charming banter and keen observations would certainly color the discussion with a far more exciting flair than his sluggish attempt.

"Brother …" Georgiana called softly. She was aware of his distant, almost dreamy, gazes which were quite out of place. That corner of the room had nothing pleasant nor painful to hold his attention such.

"Brother-" she tried again, this time with success. "I do think you should see Cousin Richard again. I think his company did you some good before…" Her eyes glowed with a hesitant reluctance. Her absolute admiration for the man led her shyness to an overpowering control, which stifled her ability to advise him on anything. Yet she did feel Colonel Fitzwilliam had roused him slightly from his stupor, and was hopeful he could do such again.

With a sigh and a gentle smile, Darcy nodded - "I suppose you are right, dearest. Perhaps we can all dine together tomorrow? Would you like that?"

"Oh, Yes, Fitzwilliam; that would be ever so lovely."

"Then it is done."

* * *

The following day, around noon, Darcy and Richard met to ride out through a charming park half way between Darcy's townhouse and the wartime office. Darcy often wondered whether riding in such a constrained place help ease his desire to gallop at breakback speed, or whip his urges up into a frenzy. The gentle trot was nothing compared to the joy of an open field. And with these thoughts, his mind drifted toward Elizabeth Bennet glowing within the Darcy box. Did that encounter torture his soul, or soothe it? His frustration at his inability to decide was boundless. And the comparison between that woman and a ride upon his steed was dangerously well suited.

Richard was observant enough to catch the struggled frown upon his friend's brow, and we determined to question him, even here in the light of day. "Cuz. Have you made any progress on your …scheme?"

"No." He responded flatly.

"And why ever not? You attended the-" Richard stopped himself as his eyes fell upon a buzzing party of walkers. Clearing his throat, he continued: "You attend these matters with diligence, I know. You go to _theatrical_ measures to understand your ventures. What conclusions have you resolved upon?"

Darcy narrowed his eyes at his cousin's outrageous distortion. Yet Richard continued to stare, his gaze broaching no neglect. "Fine … The business continues to elude me. Whenever I am near … _the purchase_ , I am distracted by the fine features. But once removed, the evils of its circumstances prevail."

"You know, I always believed you dwell too much upon your thoughts. In the past, your contemplation has always worked out in your favor. But this time, I believe I shall carry the point. Your mulling is moving you to misery."

"Richard-" Darcy sighed, with a shake of his head. But in that moment, his eye caught the figure of a woman. It could not be; in a city as large as London? And yet, there she was, rounding the corner of the path to come upon them. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, dressed in a gown the color of the English Channel, a misty blue with deep stripes. He was amazed how her lithe figure showcased her attire in a way he had never noticed upon another woman. Soft lace edged her décolletage, which he yearned to touch. Before he knew it, he had dismounted and strode to meet her.

His cousin had blathered on, continuing his inane comparison between the woman in front of him and a business dealing. Darcy fidgeted at the thought of her hearing this outrageous discussion. "Richard," he discreetly hissed, turning to the man quickly with a white hot glare, before addressing the nymph before him.

Colonel Fitzwilliam first was offended at his cousin's curt dismissal; he believed his turns of phrase were quite clever. But quickly he took in the scene before him. His dolt of a friend was standing, back stiffer than the columns of Pemberley, jaw snapped tight, and hands flexing in restrained passion. His eyes took in the surprisingly spritely woman, who stood with wide eyes and a surprised, cautious look upon her refreshing face.

Darcy had described her with almost disturbing accuracy. This Miss Bennet was pretty, to be sure; but in a pastoral, almost homely, fashion. He had certainly seen women more beautiful in both the country and the ton. But she appeared fresh, and actually quite striking, without the opulence and false modesty he had seen so often in those more classical beauties.

In fact - she looked quite distressed at the moment. Her gaze, which rested upon his cousin, held no guile or foul delight at her luck at running into the pair. Richard was determined to watch Darcy with the utmost vigilance. From his confessions before, he was certain Darcy had finally discovered something he did not excel at.

"Miss Bennet." Darcy bowed, in his typical standoffish fashion. Richard smirked, noting this was _not_ a favorable beginning.

Elizabeth curtsied, though said nothing. She was too startled at his appearance. What were the chances?

Trailing behind her was a somewhat distressed footman; he was not her equal in his ability to walk, and was obviously embarrassed as such. But at this moment, Elizabeth felt grateful to hear John's rasping breath as he reached her. How embarrassing if she had been found wandering the streets of London unaccompanied, like some hoyden! She would have to thank her brother afterall.

The silence around them was stifling, and Richard took pity upon his cousin and coughed lightly.

"Oh, yes…" Darcy stuttered out of his hex. "Miss Bennet, let me introduce my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam."

"At last - How lovely to meet you!" He called with a warm smile as leapt from his steed and approached the young woman. He felt cheeky enough to grab her hand and kiss it lightly as she curtsied. He was certain Darcy fumed with jealousy.

"Thank you," she demurred. "Though, I am certain you must exaggerate. It cannot be _at last_ when Mr. Darcy and I have only known each other just these past few months. And it cannot be _lovely,_ as Mr. Darcy is my harshest critic. "

"No, you are incorrect in this Miss Bennet." he replied, quite charmed by her easy banter. But a quick look at his cousin shared his questions at such a strong statement. "I am very pleased to meet your acquaintance."

"What are you doing here?" Darcy's icy baritone broke the warm exchange between the newly introduced.

Elizabeth could not help but arch an eyebrow at such a direct, cutting comment. Indignant displeasure once again smoked and burned low like the last coals of a fire. "I might ask the same of you, Mr. Darcy. But my manners permit it. Good day, gentlemen - come along John." she curtsied quickly and began her path around the two great men with a fierce resolve.

Richard swatted at his cousin, and turned to the retreating, or perhaps advancing, woman. "Please- forgive my oaf of a cousin! We have only just met, you cannot leave just yet."

She stopped and turned, prepared to inform them both that she intended to do just that. But she bit her cheek and held her tongue, once she saw the Colonel's beseeching smile. He was not commanding her cooperation, unlike the glaring statue behind him.

"I am afraid I must. I cannot be late to luncheon with my aunt. She is expecting me."

"Might we escort you?" Colonel Fitzwilliam suggested.

"That shan't be necessary. I know my way to Gracechurch street just fine." She was happy to declare her destination, and was somewhat surprised to find no reaction from the Colonel. But his cousin was not quite as gentlemanly. Elizabeth easily noticed his glowering brow and deepening frown at the announcement of the Gardiner address.

"Thank you for the offer, but I cannot imposition you." Turning to the warm Colonel, she smiled sincerely and bid him a pleasant goodbye, and left without another word.

As he watched her dart down the lane at an impressive pace, Richard turned round to Darcy to find him staring darkly, fingers still fidgeting.

"You blew it, you dolt! No wonder you're miserable! If you keep behaving like that, you'll never have a chance."

Darcy glowered, and could only watch her go.


	22. Chapter 22

"My goodness, Aunt, he is the most contradictory man I have ever met." Elizabeth had returned from taking the delightful Gardiner children back from a stroll through a nearby park. She was certain _she_ had never been so charming or well-behaved as the three chicks, and she had thoroughly admonished and praised her dear Aunt Madeline for the prestigiously fine mother she was. The children had returned to the nursery, and Lizzy was happy to take afternoon tea with her aunt in order to share her exasperations.

"Firstly, as you know, I was merely tolerable, and unworthy of a dance. Then at Netherfield, how we fought! He is such a proud, disagreeable man! And so vexing, for as soon as I was certain of his character, determined engrave it in stone, he begged forgiveness for that outrageous slight. And then an oddly silent dance at Charles' ball; does he not know you only dance in order to get to know one's partner?"

Madeline sipped her tea patiently, with a softly amused look in her eye, a small smirk upon her lips. Lizzy was a charming girl, and she was happy to listen and wait. It was obvious her niece was not finished.

"And then, I do not think you know, when I stayed with Charles and Jane at Hertfordshire; Mr. Darcy did not return to town directly after the wedding. I was left to entertain him that evening- Jane and Bingley were … Well …" Here she had the decency to blush; which erupted into a giggle when her aunt asked her with a witchy smirk, "I suppose they had business to attend to."

"Well - I do not begrudge Jane, as you say, she was assisting her husband." Again, she could not get through the sentence without a snort. Yet then, turning quite serious, she continued: "But that evening Aunt, when Mr. Darcy should have simply escaped to his bedchamber, he entreated me to play and sing. He confessed to enjoying my performance- a man who must have attended the finest of concerts enjoyed my playing - it is … Well … _Very like a whale!_ "

This did surprise her aunt, and her interest was piqued.

"And then, Aunt Gardiner, he invited our party to see _As you like it_ , and he was so interesting. I have always admitted he is quite educated, quite sharp, but to share his opinions throughout the show with me was beyond my expectations. Vexing man, indeed. And just when I am prepared to change my opinion once more, I met him on my walk here, and he was as silent and proud as ever. The few words he did share were sterner than a bitter father's!" With a great sigh, she looked to her aunt , nibbling her lip in frustration.

"And I simply must decipher his character- I am certain to see him about, being Charles' closest friend. I must resolve this, for my own sanity."

"Well, Lizzy, at least you shall not be bored! I will admit your description of him is contradictory… But dearest, please remember people are ever changing."

"Not you, Aunt. You are forever the constant confidant."

"Even me, Lizzy."

The pair happily parted with promises to visit after Jane's Eastertide trip north, and Elizabeth's trip into Kent.

* * *

The following evening was to be their big debut into London society in earnest. While they had made a few appearances about town, including Hyde Park and a few museums and exhibits at Jane's suggestion and Lizzy's delight, tonight would be their first ball. Bingley had fretted when they arrived; there had been so few invitations, as the season was coming to a close. But Caroline ensured him they would receive some cards, and indeed they did.

Bingley was determined to provide the best to his wife, and showcase her to only the greatest and grandest affairs he could deign to attend. He was pleased to discover that they were invited to a ball at the home of Viscount Hood. Lord Henry Hood was an unlikely friend to Charles Bingley, but coming under Darcy's wing at school had opened many a once unattainable door. Bigley was pleased to respond with an acceptance, and was certain to drop by his friend Darcy's to enlist his acceptance also.

Darcy was slow in his agreement, which was nothing new to Bingley. But after some not-so-subtle hints of the importance of Jane's first London ball, Darcy agreed. Charles was equally determined to ensure Lizzy was excited and prepared for the event.

Firstly, he had secretly contacted Mr. "Charlie" Lucas, as he liked to call him, and invited him and his mother to stay an evening or two in London, who were to pick up Lizzy to take into Kent at any rate. He assured Lucas that he would be welcome to join their party and meet some Londoners at the Viscount's party. Bingley had received a warm and charming acceptance.

Secondly, he ordered Jane to surprise his new sister with a new gown, and even offered some suggestions to the design. "She is too apt to underplay her looks, Jane! As her brother, I am determined to spoil her as she deserves. Make certain there is some finery to the dress! Something that will catch a man's eye."

"You sound determined to marry her off, dear husband! Almost as bad as my mother!" Jane laughed and Bingley joined in, though appearing a bit sheepish. Imagine- being compared to his mother-in-law! Jane continued: "Though I must agree with you, she does not see herself for the beauty she is. I shall indulge you, though when she complains of the lace, I shall defer her woes to you. But! You shan't marry her off- I am not ready to lose her!"

"Agreed - nor am I, Jane."

And, with such schemes concocted, Lizzy found, upon her bed, a lovely gown of dusty lavender silk, with a white Swiss dot netting overlay, gathered with beautiful detail. A lavender ribbon sat simply under the bust. The dress altogether created a light, fluid look which Elizabeth found elegantly pleasing. It was certainly more decorated than she would have ordered, but with the finished piece in front of her, she found herself anticipating her dressing.

As her maid, Abby, helped her prepare, she was somewhat anxious. The cut of the vee neckline of the dress dipped lower than she had ever worn, but the gathering of the crossover bodice added some fullness to the top which she hoped distracted the eye from her décolletage.

"You do look ever so lovely, Miss."

"Thank you Abby- I'm certain I don't deserve it!"

"No, no Miss!"

"Well … If you insist," Elizabeth conceded with an impish smile, which Abby returned. They made quick work of her hair, and as Lizzy took stock of her image in the mirror, she felt she could hardly recognize herself. The pert country Miss Nobody, as Miss Bingley had named her, was suddenly transformed into a lovely and even, perhaps, daring darling of London.

She entered one of the larger drawing rooms with one eyebrow cocked, as she heard different voices bursting with both excitement and discontent behind the heavy door. She let out a small gasp and then rushed to his side with a grin and a light laugh. There stood Charlie Lucas, chatting with a gentle smile to her brother Charles. Mrs. Lucas stood beside Mrs. Hurst, asking seemingly disinterested questions about the host of the upcoming ball.

"Charlie!" Lizzy laughed, "Whatever are you doing here!"

Jane was smiling beside both men, and grabbed her sister's arm. "Isn't this the grandest surprise, Lizzy?"

Charlie's face warmed as he took in his friend's glowing eyes, and bowed, perhaps a bit formally to her.

Bingley grinned and laughed, "I am exceedingly pleased with myself, Lizzy. I was determined to surprise you, and it appears I have succeeded. I thought, why not invite your family friends for an evening in London before taking you away. I am very grateful to them for keeping you occupied while Jane and I travel north. Though we shall miss you in Scarborough, and will certainly need to bring you on our next trip." Bingley had been surprised how easily Elizabeth fit into married life with Jane, and now found himself almost regretting their original plans. But he was not made for dourness, and instead relished the trip Jane and himself would leisurely take - a honeymoon of sorts, just for themselves.

"Jane - I am amazed at your discretion! How could you keep such secrets from me!"

Jane smiled at her husband, and confided, "He has surprised me too, Lizzy! Though I did know about the gown. Mr. Bingley did declare you simply had to have a new dress, and as your only brother he was happy to spoil you. Also, I must confess, he insisted it must have some little details and femininity, even though you quite avoid such indulgences."

"Well, as much as I would typically complain at lace, you and he have selected a most beautiful garment, and I find I simply cannot protest."

Charlie's warm brown eyes took her in, and quietly agreed that Lizzy looked "exceedingly well."

Elizabeth felt a slight blush cover her neck and her stomach drop. Uncertain eyes landed upon her friend, as she questioned whether she wished him to ask her a certain question again. Was the roiling in her stomach a sign of fear or endorsement?

Determined to ignore her serious questions and simply enjoy the company of a beloved friend, she moved to Charlie's side, and demanded he tell her how the neighborhood was faring.

* * *

Darcy glowered near the refreshment table in the glittering ballroom of Viscount Henry Hood. The punch was quite strong, and standing so near the seemingly endless bowl, Darcy found himself overindulging to wittle away the time. He cursed under his breath as he finished his third glass, deposited the empty container with a footman, and walked away to pace near the exit to the balcony, where he better able to stare at the stairway entrance.

He had arrived entirely too early. The Bingley family was notoriously late! What was he thinking, walking up the steps of the grand London home at precisely eight o'clock? Though his stern brow brokered no embarrassment, he felt like a foolish youth, and very wet behind the ears.

Over the course of an hour and some minutes, the room had become quite full, buzzing with the energy of the final big event of the season. People chatted and boasted of summer trips and manor improvements. Some poised questions in a manner most obvious, cloying for invitations. A few acquaintances of Darcy's, married and not, greeted the forever bachelor, most expressing their surprise at seeing him at the party at all. Mr. Darcy, still on edge and struggling to maintain his manners, dismissed them as quickly as he could.

"Curse Miss Bingley and her ridiculous feathers…" He muttered under his breath as he paced the border of the room, determined to keep moving. Had they always arrived this tardy? It had become late enough in the evening that Lord Henry and his wife, Lady Prudence, decided to cease the receiving line. They entered the main room, with their last guests in tow, whom Darcy would recognize anywhere: Mr. Bingley grinned from ear to ear, sauntering down the steps like the cat who caught the cream. His wife, a classical blonde beauty on his right arm, and a lovely brunette with sparkling eyes on his left. Darcy's breath evacuated his lungs, his eyes honed upon the woman, and his sense was lost, along with the rest of the sound in the room.

A hush had fallen as many greedy eyes took in the hosts and their bewitching guests. Many knew Bingley, and could guess that the blue eyed, blonde haired angel was the new Mrs. Bingley. But the other woman, who took in the room with a keen eye and a genuinely interested small smile, was questioned. She was identified by some of the young men as the delightful Miss Bennet, Mrs. Bingley's younger and lively younger sister. They had met her acquaintance at the theatre, or at the park, or at the exhibits, and they could attest to Bingley's praises: she was a very pleasant, very witty, and very lovely young woman.

Darcy stood dumbstruck for some time, as the words buzzed about in a hushed murmur. He watched her take in the room, her eyes flitting from person to person, decoration to finery. At one point, her gaze landed on him, but she was busy whispering some delightful, diverting comment to their hosts. Henry and Prudence, a moment later, burst with laughter which they struggled to regulate to the tasteful measures they were so well known for. Lady Prudence exchanged an intrigued glance with her husband, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet's eyes shimmered with amusement whiler her lips turned up with that puckish pert mischief which Fitzwilliam Darcy found so fascinating.

He involuntarily took a step toward them, but stopped short of his path when his eyes landed upon the larger party which followed. He had been lost in the halo of her light, blinding him to the reality before him.

Miss Bingley and Mr. And Mrs. Hurst were no surprise. But, behind this trio was a man who haunted his dreams and plagued his restless mind. Mr. Charles Lucas strode humbly behind them all, with an older woman upon his arm. It was some time before Darcy could remember that she was his mother, Mrs. Lucas.

Darcy struggled out of his stupor, and just as he grasped his wits, Bingley and his beauties were upon him. In that moment, stomach churning with spirits from the punch and shock from her alluring presence, he could have cursed his friend for ever stepping foot in Hertfordshire - almost. "Darce! You are a fine friend indeed, thank you for meeting us. Though … You do look pale."

Miss Bennet assessed him with a chilled gaze, and turned to her brother to proclaim: "Perhaps, but we are all aware of Mr. Darcy's limited _tolerance_ of festivities, and dare I say, pleasantries in general! Do be lenient with him." Her light voice and teasing remarks made him ache with desire; if he could but call this magnificent woman his!

"Mr. Darcy," Mr. Lucas bowed in greeting. "It is excellent to see you again."

Darcy could not even choke out those pleasantries which Miss Elizabeth Bennet had just proclaimed he would not share. Though he longed to prove her wrong, he could not lie and agree to Charles Lucas' statement. As enthralling as it had been to see Elizabeth again, it was doubly wretched to see him. Instead he simply gave a curt nod, and turned his gaze to Charles and Jane, and struggled to say how well they each looked tonight.

Elizabeth's eyes bore into him, blazing with an indignant confirmation. How had she ever been so blind to enjoy his company. Though he might think well enough of Jane, especially now that she was tied to his friend, Mr. Darcy was still the pompous, proud, even spiteful man who could not descend from his tower to even greet her dear friends. His boorish behavior brought to mind the words of Mr. Wickham, and she felt again how easy it was to support his claims. She watched Mr. Darcy struggle to converse feeling very little tolerance for his rudeness, and found a way off of Bingley's arm, and gladly turned to Charlie.

It did not take someone of great observational powers to see her anger, and Charlie took some quick steps toward her in order to whisper: "Come now Lizzy … There is no need for the irritation so plainly seen upon your face."

"There certainly is!" She shot back as quietly as she could muster. "I cannot abide a man who would- no- _has_ \- cut my dearest friends. You are, both," she said, turning to Mrs. Lucas, "all politeness. And he is insolence incarnate."

"Elizabeth - all shall be well. I have no plans to allow one man, whom we _know_ to be unpleasant, to ruin an evening such as this." Mrs. Lucas patted Miss Elizabeth's clenched hand, and politely smiled. "Now- you have promised Lord Henry your third, and your brother the second. Make my evening and dance the first with Charlie."

Elizabeth restrained her fury at one man, and gladly accepted the offer of dancing from another. And not moments later, she would continue to accept more propositions to fill her dance card. Her brother Bingley had turned back to her with a familiar face, and introduced his good friend Mr. James Huntsman, whom she had met at the theatre. He was svelte and tall, with a smile perhaps too wide for his thin face, but all together of a jovial air which reminded Lizzy very much of Charles Bingley himself. She was not surprised to find Charles counted him amongst his friends.

Yet she _was_ surprised to find a host of men come to greet Bingley within the half hour, and at her introduction as a new younger sister to Mrs. Bingley, be solicited for her card, until her card was quite full! Wide eyes questioned Charlie, who simply smirked and winked quickly to her, pleased to see her so well received in the ballroom.

Mr. Darcy glowered at the barrage of bachelors who circled and caught spots on her card like vultures. He positioned himself in order to get a look at her card after the latest dandy, the vulgar Sir Tyler, a rake of the first order. He panicked to see many names striped across the card, and was stirred to do something absolutely outrageous. As Elizabeth curtailed the man's sickening flirting, he snatched her card and scrawled his name across the remaining slot - the supper set.

This did not go unnoticed by either Sir Tyler or Elizabeth Bennet; his eyebrows perked with eager interest and her cheeks flushed red in the most becoming style. In those quick moments, he had found Mr. Lucas' name upon the list twice, and his fingers twisted in order to fight the urge to shred the card to bits.

When the card was returned, and Mr. Darcy bowed with a stiff, "Thank you," (as if this was a common occurrence!) Elizabeth's ire flared again, eyes sparkling with energy, yet she held her tongue. Instead, she let him leave, turned to her new acquaintance and smartly quipped: "If you know Mr. Darcy, you shall understand, I think. He is so certain of his opinion, and so disdainful of conversation that there be no need to voice his request. How efficient of him?"

Sir Tyler knew enough of Darcy to find her observation delightfully saucy and true to-boot.

* * *

 _I read somewhere that the phrase "rather like a whale" from Shakespeare's Hamlet, was an idiom for "ridiciolous!" Not sure if that's true, but Lizzy would certainly quote something from the bard. Also, I've read light purple colors were popular and appriopriate for maidens (and not just half-mourning attire. And I think Lizzy would look lovely in lavender.)_


	23. Chapter 23

Viscount Hood's London home was shimmering with candlelight, buzzing with excitement, and was all-together far grander and pleasanter than Elizabeth had expected. She was somewhat overwhelmed by the flurry of men who had come and gone in seemingly the blink of an eye. And then, she was stirred to even greater distress when Mr. Darcy surprised her with the most unlikely of actions. For all her dislike of him, she would have never supposed he could behave in such an improper fashion! She perceived many faults in him, but indecorum was not amongst her list- perhaps now she could add it, and embarrass him with the knowledge that he shared a weakness with the likes of _Lydia Bennet!_

So, she found herself grateful, indeed, when the musicians started their tuning. "I am sorry," she lied to the peer (she was _not_ sorry), "but I must find my first partner." And with the quickest of curtsies and a tight smile, she fled his company. Eyes swept across the room, with a small frown upon her lips, until she was frightened by a soft hand upon her arm. With a small yelp, she turned to find a pair of soft brown eyes and a bemused face. With a great sigh, she chastised him with a teasing smirk: "Charlie! How dare you scare me in such a manner! You know, if you were going to surprise me, you might have done so when Sir Tyler was so enthralled with my person. I could have used a protective defender, yet you were nowhere to be found. You left that role to the likes of _Mr. Darcy!"_

"Really?" He smirked in return. "Well, I have always found you quite insistent that you need no hero." He promptly took her hand and led her to the dance floor, where couples were lining up for the opening number. Lizzy contained her laughter at his familiar quip.

Lizzy's eyes fell upon two pairs, who were so very much in love. The nearly ridiculous grin upon Charles Bingley's face was almost comical. His wife was perhaps not _quite_ as open in her affection, but it was easy to see her eyes solely staid upon him. The second couple exuded a different sort of feeling, yet it was clearly love. Elizabeth observed that the affection between the Viscount and Viscountess was akin to a quiet lake; the waters were calm and peaceful, because of the great depths below, which quelled any waves of distress.

That longing desire to find such harmony filled her being once more; Elizabeth was quite distracted by the strength of the emotion, so much so that she was once again surprised that evening, this time by the music swelling and the dance beginning.

Her eyes jumped to her partner. They found a man, not quite handsome, but slim and well groomed, ordinary and well-known to her. Charlie forced his previously contemplative expression to a softer smile, aware of Lizzy's discomfort. As the music played, and the lights glowed, and the steps whirled them around and around, Elizabeth found her mind racing (perhaps unwise on a dance floor, but she could not stop it's scrambling!)

The _respect_ she had detected in that look, between Lord and Lady Hood, she could certainly find with Charlie Lucas. In this romantic setting, where they found themselves, she wondered if she might be able to force upon herself a deeper, perhaps wilder, set of emotions. Amongst the sumptuous silks and splendor of the night, she was determined to conjure up the inclination she previously lacked, remembering that day, months ago, when this man offered her the promise of a sensible marriage.

"Miss Bennet," he frowned as they came together once more. "You've said nary a word, and I cannot decide, but I think you are looking somewhat uneasy. What is occupying your mind?'

"Oh …" Elizabeth struggled to find some words. _I am simply forcing myself to love you, that is all._ Certainly not ballroom discussion! "I… I am just overwhelmed, I suppose! Bingley has so many friends, and Mr. Darcy insists upon continuing to be one of them. If I had known Bingley had so many well established friends, I might have wished Mr. Wickham's threat true! If Bingley's marriage had been seen as a disgrace, and the relationship thus severed, Mr. Darcy wouldn't be present to vex me so."

"He affects you."

"What?" Lizzy questioned, honestly confused by this response.

"His opinions of you; they bother you far more than any man's. You have never cared two straws about a man such as him."

"Wouldn't you care if an acquaintance, much in your company, insulted you? And insulted your friends?"

"Lizzy, he _has_ apologized. And even if he hadn't, _I_ might care, but _you_ have always chosen to laugh at such follies and incongruities. I have never seen you quite so offended."

Though the room was filled with chatter and music, Elizabeth felt as if silence had fallen around her.

"Why do you think that is?" Charlie further questioned her.

And with that, she wished to cry! She could take _no more_ deep thoughts this evening; she had already set her course upon an objective, and thinking on Mr. Darcy a moment longer would do absolutely _nothing_ but spur her to further frustration.

"Mr. Lucas, even _I_ have my limits." she responded, determined to close this topic once and for all- "Mr. Darcy may own the very _austere_ reward of being the most unpleasant man: so unpleasant, that even _I, Elizabeth Bennet,_ cannot dismiss his cankers with a laugh."

And with that teasing tone, she scolded her partner, "Now - no more discussion on _that_ gentleman. I demand you speak to me of sweeter things."

* * *

Darcy abstained from dancing, and from any further drinking. He was typically unpleasant at such gatherings, but tonight was the worst evening he could remember. When a drink would often calm his restless spirit, the punch tonight stirred on his ire. His foggy mind bristled as he observed men woo her, watch her, want her; It drove him mad.

She opened the ball with Mr. Charles Lucas. Mr. Darcy paced and stewed, wondering what sort of significance he should infer from the action. On one hand, every married, engaged, and destined couple danced the first. On the other, Mr. Lucas was a gentleman of her party, he would have had the first opportunity to request such a dance, and it was quite natural for such close acquaintances to pair up.

Gnashing his teeth, he skirted the edges of the ball room, slowly following the pair down the dance floor, eyes ever fixed upon his deepest desire. A wide array of emotions played upon her face, but her impertinent smirk won the day, and the previous thoughtful looks were cast away for the delightfulness that was her wit.

With that first dance completed, Darcy suddenly felt a mass of nerves erupt in his stomach. Whatever was he going to say to her when it was _his_ name next upon her dance card? No matter his intent, their history for ballroom talk was riddled with conflict! He struggled to prepare some mental script. Between his rippling nerves at the mere thought of her hand in his, his constant distraction to find her among the crush of dancers, and the occasional friend who met him for some matters of business or leisure, the time slipped by, and he was no better prepared than when he entered the ballroom.

And that was how he found himself, helplessly fidgeting and dry mouth, striding toward her effervescence.

With a tight bow and a hurried, damp hand, he quickly disposed of her prior partner, a young green boy of little consequence and even less sense. Throughout the night, on the whole, she had looked thoroughly pleased and very proud of herself and her joyous candor. But now, ensnared in _his_ company, he watched her stand stiff and cold, and mutter the barest niceties. Too busy wrestling for words, it did not dawn on him that he had said next to nothing himself.

He brought her to the drink table, where he obtained and offered her a small glass of punch. She accepted the drink, but not without a daring glare.

"Mr. Darcy - what if I was not inclined to drink at this moment, Twice now, to no great surprise, you have taken the power of polite choice away from me. What decision shall you steal away next?" With a daring, expectant glare, she raised her eyebrows and proceeded to drink deeply from the cup.

"I am afraid I cannot answer you, Miss Bennet, as I haven't a clue that which you suggest."

"Are you really so unaware? Ah - the luxury, or perhaps ignorance, of manhood!"

Darcy raised his eyebrows at such a statement, and earnestly urged her to continue.

"You gave me no opportunity to decline this drink, as you had already taken it upon yourself to prepare and pour the goblet. It would have been exceedingly rude to deny your offering when it was right in front of me."

"I suppose you are right, though I certainly don't think anyone would have thought you improper, even if you had declined the refreshment." The music was beginning, and he gently, yet firmly, secured her hand with a tremor of joy and led her to the dance floor. The time was upon him; and although he hadn't the slightest clue what they might discuss, he anticipated the exercise of foot and mind before him.

"The drink, I give you, I might have turned down. But I was not so lucky with your first officiousness." She noted his continued confusion, and with the first plucks of the chords, she frowned and relieved him of his confusion: " _This dance,_ Mr. Darcy."

He had no response to such a declaration, and instead moved through the steps, and grasped helplessly for some words, witty or else-wise, to diffuse the tension. She had bested him again! The move of the dance turned them here and there, and while most of the crowd was inconsequential to him, in those desperate moments of need, one face sprung out, with intrigued yet critical brown eyes. Mr. Lucas was sitting out the dance, as he had the entirety of the night, save the first with Elizabeth. And his keen gaze followed the pair around the dance floor like a honed blade. The green monster spurred him to speak, with this sudden reminder of all that was at risk.

"I apologize, Miss Bennet." He spoke with a measured tone, and his eyes now determined to not leave her lovely face. "I shall have to earn your approbation and convince my partner she is so pleased with the experience that she needn't regret the lack of option."

Elizabeth's cheeks flushed at such a self-assured statement, and gave him a look which urged him to _try his best._ She knew him incapable!

Try his best, he did, though bungling through small talk with the woman he found larger-than-life was almost painful. How he longed to speak to her of deeper things than pleasantries. Yet, he soldiered on: "First, you must permit me to tell you how well you look this evening." In sharing this, he did take pleasure.

This turn of phrase itched her sense of humor, so perfectly aligned to the bullheadedness she had just accused him of: "Yet again you speak before I give you leave, sir!" She could not help but laugh lightly, and was glad to do so, as it hid the quickness in her chest to receive such a smile, yet earnest compliment from a man who had once called her tolerable. She continued to distract herself, and thought: What she would not give for such freedoms and authority as a man!

He smirked with a disconcerting twinkle in his eye, and replied, "It appears I am quite incapable of suppressing such liberties when it comes to you."

Her veil of distraction flapped like laundry on a gusty day: Was Mr. Darcy flirting with her? Her cheeks turned pink, and she was suddenly so very aware, again, of his presence, his scent, his steps, circling around her, edging his strong hands and broad shoulders and trim figure ever closer to her.

She was suddenly quite distracted when suddenly, a realization dawned upon her; _this_ was that heady sensation she longed for; that all consuming elixir which exaggerated her senses and both heightened and muddled her mind. She thought back to that wretched piano bench, to the dance at Netherfield, to that moment in the library. How could it be that such an unpleasant man, and such arguments spurred her to that escalation of emotions. Why could she not feel such stirrings during her first dance?

Aghast at where such thoughts might lead her, the veil of reason was clung to again. Logic prevailed and forced herself to concede; she was passionate with Mr. Darcy - but for such different reasons! She _longed_ to prove this man _wrong_! To put his prideful, haughty arrogance to shame! She grabbed hold to such reasoning with vigor, and gladly held this mission near to her heart, determined to defend that organ from dangerous delusions.

"Sir," she lowered her eyes to watch their feet, aware of the pretty picture she might strive to make. "I am quite certain that ..." she paused to determine a word without quite as much bite, " _assertiveness_ is a cornerstone of your person; it has nothing to do with _me._ It is only that I dare enlighten you of the ugly shadow of your resolution."

Eyes then connected, and the two of them yet struggled to fully understand one another- each too contaminated by their fixed opinions and long histories with the value and duty inherent in action and choice.

The dance brought them together and apart; phrase by phrase, Mr. Darcy quietly shared this sentiment: "I will own, I can count you amongst a scant few of my friends who shall never shirk at the chance to challenge me."

Elizabeth was shocked, to hear him declare her a friend! Certainly he deferred to that title as the only option available. She admitted they were more than acquaintances- She was his best friend's sister now. Watching his demeanor, she caught that stern, disapproving gaze yet again upon her. Taking a steadying breath, she rose to the occasion, eyes narrowing and chin lifting to state: "I speak as I find."

"You do." He nodded.

The dance ended. He bowed deeply, she curtsied, as was proper. As the couples bustled with smiles and laughter to the awaiting room for supper, they remained. Neither noticed the lurking presence of Charlie Lucas; they were too busy assessing the other.

"Miss Bennet," he spoke with a quiet warmth, she had to lean toward him to catch his words. With eyes locked with each other: "Miss Bennet, if amenable to you, would you accompany me to supper?"

Elizabeth felt spellbound. Did he not consider what it might mean to the rest of the Londoners here?

"The choice is yours, Miss Bennet."

How many times would he say her name? And now she felt the gaze of curious onlookers. Would she commend more attention dismissing him, or following him? She felt their moment slipping away to the interest of others. She assented, ever-so-slightly, as she suddenly felt utterly out of her depths.

Walking out, she was unaware of the small smile gracing his lips.

* * *

 _shorter than I'd like, and a long time coming ... but here it is._


	24. Chapter 24

Walking into the dining space on Mr. Darcy's arm was a most distressing experience. Plenty of greedy eyes of the ton landed upon the pair. Elizabeth recognized both men and women, young and old, who were intrigued by their entrance. She did her best to ignore the curious stares; peering up toward Mr. Darcy, she found his face void of that disgust which had marred his face at the Meryton assemblies - further proof he thought himself above her meager heritage. When the first circles chose to gawk, it was acceptable? And the _vulgarities_ of a country assembly were unforgiven.

"Though you might prefer the power of choice, would you allow me to maintain proprietary and secure you a plate?" He asked, his baritone humming in her ear.

"Certainly." Elizabeth demurred in response. His pride was irking, but she could admit his conversation was capable of cleverness. He easily deposited her at an empty table, which she was surprised to find, for it certainly was a crush. It seemed Viscountess Hood was a perfect hostess (even though many ladies chose to set up less seats than guests, to exaggerate the throng). Her escort returned with two plates, similarly stocked with delicate and simple dishes, much to her surprise. Would he never cease to vex her?! How did he return with an array of selection so well attuned to her tastes? She quietly thanked him In her stupor, but it was such that he needed to lean in to hear her over the general chatter in the room.

"I was hoping I might have the opportunity to ask you..." his words drifted into the buzzing of the room, and Lizzy could think of no topic which he might wish to discuss, but nodded nonetheless.

Darcy himself struggled to chose. There was a variety of discussions he wished to share with her - the minx urged him to madness- he wished to tell her of his fascination in her. But he was not _so_ in his cups to share such a sensitive thing, and at a ball no less!

No, he dug deep, and decided to ask about, perhaps, the least romantic topic he could stumble upon. Alas, the words poured out: "Yes, I am certain I have heard you speak at least twice about livestock, Ryelands, I believe. Have you met with any success in your efforts to improve those herds?"

Had she had any food in her mouth, Lizzy was certain she would have spit it out. She struggled to contain her laughter, and gulped for air. "Mr. Darcy - you have the most peculiar preference in ballroom conversation." She could not contain the smile, which was returned in his face.

Taking a moment to gather her thoughts by indulging in the delicious food, she turned to him and admitted, "I have, indeed, been interested in assisting one of my father's tennants."

"And have you met with success?"

"I have. Now that I've established a closer relationship with Netherfield's tenants, I was able to conspire a _chance_ meeting between the Richards and the Smiths, and prompt them to share their experiences. Both have benefitted, and some of their prior tensions Have waned."

"Are you always so interested in the business of estates."

"I am," she firmly replied. "Do you find that indelicate, for a gentlewoman, like myself?"

"No, certainly not." Mr. Darcy frowned. "Land owners and their families have a grave duty to uphold. And in the absence of leadership, anyone who sets forward to better all parties should be regarded with value and respect."

Elizabeth fixated upon his words, and discovered a slight to her father, and even Bingley; she felt the need to defend, at least, him. "My brother is new to these things, and has much to learn in the behaviors and opinions of the tenants. You mustn't expect him to understand their oddities and obstinacy, just yet."

"No, I lay no blame at Bingley's feet. As you said, he is a novice."

That left the stinging comment due to no one but Mr. Bennet, until Mr. Darcy spoke to clarify. "No, the owner of Netherfield, not the renter, should be more diligent to forward the relationships of the tenants."

"How? He has nary returned for, but ... perhaps a sennight, over the last five years."

"Exactly," Darcy nodded, "He cannot be a diligent partner for those families left without protection."

"Well, if things were dire, the Netherfield tenants all knew they could prevail upon Longborn. Indeed, many were pleased to discover Jane the new mistress, if only for the time being."

"You continue to prove my point, Miss Elizabeth."

"But surely you have properties you cannot constantly coddle."

"True - but I ensure they are constantly cared for: rented by capable families, or my overseer is empowered to serve the property and families. Duty requires no less."

Duty, or the wretched pride he clung to - which was it that drove the man?

"You have exacting standards Mr. Darcy, in management estate, if not in ballroom etiquette." Elizabeth permitted.

And with that comment, his poor manners continued: the pair sat and finished their light repast in silence. When she had completed her meal, her eyes strayed to her partner, only to slide to the guests in general. Biting her lower lip (a bad habit indeed), her eyes scoured the busy room, and was pleased to find Jane and Charles chatting warmly with Charlie and Mrs. Lucas, and their hosts. Mrs. Lucas looked positively stunned, though her husband spoke of St. James so frequently. A sudden movement toward her right distracted her from that pleasant scene. She found instead Sir Tyler stalking his way over to their quiet table.

As he came to Mr. Darcy's side, bowing in greeting, Elizabeth decided there were no two men in the room crafted to foil the other. Before tonight, she often considered Charles Bingley the opposite of Mr. Darcy; but Sir Tyler was an exaggeration of all Charles' tastes; unrestrained by the lower capital and missing rank of Mr. Bingley's pedigree. So- the lanky man was the very image of a fop, and Mr. Darcy so very much his opposite.

Sir Tyler, with a twinkling eye, commanded her (and everyone else's) attention. "Darcy - you surprise me, sir! A man who avoids enjoyment like a pox is rarely found in the company of such a charming lady."

Mr. Darcy scowled, though thankfully it appeared Elizabeth was oblivious to the double entendre the noble dared to deploy. A gruff grunt predicated his response, defending his presence at the ball. "I am very pleased for Bingley and his new family, and I am here to support them, including Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"Oh, she has proven to me already that she needn't your approval. Miss Bennet is a bewitching creature, is she not?"

Elizabeth bristled at being spoken of as if she was not right in front of the pair. If Sir Tyle believed this flirting appealing, he was in for a surprise. Yet, her insides roiled With a different sort of distress as Mr. Darcy curtly replied: "Miss Elizabeth, I am sure, is all politeness." To have her words wielded against her, for a change! And with that, it appeared she was dismissed. The gentleman in black bowed and stood with one last gaze, which Elizabeth struggled to read. His lips curled into the smallest frown, but did his eyes twinkle in the delight of a shared joke, or the satisfaction of a barb repaid? Before she could observe further to decide, she was pulled away by the eager, Sir Tyler, who led her back to the dancehall, declaring the music was imminent.

* * *

The night marched on in a flurry of cheer and charm. Elizabeth was rarely pleased to sit out a dance, but as the clocks struck two and the final set was upon them, she was happy to find her card empty. Sitting out this final performance allowed her to enjoy the sight of her sister's warm contentment upon her husband's arm.

Smiling softly, she greeted the friendly face which joined her on the neighboring chair.

"Well, Lizzy, you musn't declare the night anything less than a triumph."

"Charlie," she laughed softly, "Whatever do you mean?"

"Your and Mrs. Bingley's entrance into London society was well received," Mr. Lucas asserted.

Shaking her head, Elizabeth argued: "This _may_ be true, yet to claim the evening a _triumph, might_ be an exaggeration."

"No - I don't believe it is. You and your sister were much admired by the Viscount and his wife, by a variety of dance partners, and I am certain I heard your impertinent manners touted as the most enchanting temperament."

"Well, I am pleased to represent my sister and brother in the best of lights. And I am pleased you were here with us."

"As am I. Bingley is a congenial chap. It was very kind of him to extend his status for us."

"No, no Charlie!" She grabbed his hand and gave him a quick squeeze. "You are as welcomed here as I. Indeed, perhaps even more so."

Charlie merely smiled in response, and squeezed her hand back, before releasing their clandestine inelegance.

"Yes ... though I have enjoyed my time here in London," Elizabeth confided, "I am pleased to move on to our next setting. I long for fresh air and space."

"Well, that you shall have, abounding, Miss Lizzy." Charlie smiled.

* * *

The night ended, the parties departed, and Mr. Darcy returned to his empty townhouse with an empty heart. He had spent the second half of the ball with every anxious tic manifesting itself for the world to witness. At the last dance, he had thrilled to find Elizabeth missing from the floor, only to ache when he found her sitting contently with Mr. Lucas. Sitting was preferred to dancing, yet the warmth of their comfort and serenity left him cold as the frozen winter.

Farewells had been given in a rush, as Mrs. Bingley's energy had run dry, and Darcy found himself at his front steps without much a memory for their leave-taking. Had he even said goodbye to his fair maiden? When would he see her next? The Bingleys were to travel north for Easter and return at a leisurely pace.

"Damn it, man!" He cursed himself, entering his study. Though he wished to storm and brew and thunder with rage at his blasted, blasted feelings, he instead slunk into the leather armchair, tired and spent. Bleary eyes watched as the clock clicked away from 3:30 to 4:00; "Curse to my aunt - I'm not traveling tomorrow." He declared, as he forced himself from the seat and poured himself a drink.

* * *

With mixed emotions, Elizabeth bid her relatives farewell. She and Jane shared more than one 'last' embrace, and promised to write with as much diligence as could be mustered. Bingley and Elizabeth's goodbye was surprisingly difficult. Over the course of a few months, Charles had become ever so dear to her.

As Bingley grabbed her hand, he learned in to whisper in her ear: "Lizzy, I trust you can keep a secret, so I can confide that you are my favorite sister."

She laughed good naturedly, and smiled through teary eyes. With a smirk, she motioned for him to lean in, as she replied, "How very fortunate, for you are my favorite brother."

He grinned in reply, but felt too conflicted with unexpected emotions to laugh.

Her goodbyes to the Hursts and Miss Bingley took far less time, and the relief between those parties were just as mutual, though of differing moods, as the previous adieus.


	25. Chapter 25

No one particularly enjoyed travel. Yet, the carriage ride into Kent was pleasant enough; whereas most trips in Lizzy's life were accompanied by rambunctious, ridiculous sisters, the excursion with Mrs. Lucas and her son was easy and quiet. Charlie Lucas needed to learn the power of sensibility from someone, and that someone was certainly not his gregarious father. Mrs. Lucas, while not as intelligent or astute as her son, had always understood the practicality of prudence, and deployed that shrewdness when she was able. As such, she instilled those values to Charlie, who, with greater understanding, had been able to develop a great wisdom. Thus, the three were well occupied on the trip from London to Kent. Lizzy was desperate to leave behind her fragmented emotions from the night before. When she wished to spur a passion for her dear friend, she instead had found a fervor for Mr. Darcy- which she was certain was spurred by her pride and truth (nothing more!). So, silence must be conquered; she quietly confided in both mother and son that she did not have high hopes for Maria's comfort and position. Charlie agreed, sharing the contents of some of the letters his sister had sent to him and his mother. Mrs. Lucas was determined to instill some delicate advice, which she was sure could not be imparted via letter. Elizabeth was anxious to change the subject, as she could only imagine a few topics Maria's mother would wish to share in person, and her stomach protested imagining such a thing with a man such as Mr. Collins. Observant Charlie was more than pleased to grant her wish, and discussions of the countryside and geology filled the carriage for the remainder of their travels.

At length, they neared their destination, and Lizzy was delighted with yet another distraction- there was a luscious, thick grove, which Mrs. Lucas confirmed was the property of Rosings Park. And then, the parsonage was before them, and the party was pleased to leave the equipage into the welcoming words of family. Elizabeth had wondered if, in his own domain, Mr. Collins would have some small amount of ease and decorum; but it appeared such musings would not come to fruition. Indeed, her cousin stood with chest puffed out, smile wide, and speech as verbose and obsequious as ever. But Elizabeth smiled politely, at least relieved that he was not spiteful to her. She was, as always, his _dearest cousin_. Maria was quite silent, in parallel to her husband, until they entered the home and Mr. Lucas was able to contain his brother's attention.

After a warm greeting with her mother, holding onto Mrs. Lucas perhaps a few moments longer than appropriate, the young woman turned to Elizabeth and sighed with relief.

"Oh Lizzy, I am so pleased you are here. I have been anxiously awaiting you and your cleverness. I do not believe I can live like this forever."

Elizabeth was saddened to see Maria's distress, but this made her even more determined to do what she could to impart some changes at the household, which might lend some true, lasting comfort to her friend.

"And you shall not," Elizabeth declared, as she grasped the young married woman's hand. "Maria, I am resolute in my mission. We shall figure some simple adjustments and easy suggestions which will lead you into a happier arrangement."

And with such sentiments shared, they began at once.

The tour of the home was filled with a litany of stories, many of which revolved around Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Elizabeth quickly confirmed that Mrs. Collins would need to find some ways to both dismiss that woman's influence, and rely upon it when tactical.

It was obvious that the front sitting room was preferred by Mr. Collins, as it contained an excellent view of the road. He extolled the values of watching for that great lady's carriage. Elizabeth astutely confirmed the wisdom in her cousin's preference, while exclaiming how charming another, smaller, sitting room was later in their tour. "Maria - I am certain Lady de Bourgh would find this modest room the ideal location for the matron of the house. See how charming the windows are, and how light and brilliant this locale is. I am certain you can best plan out your household requirements, and those alms befitting a parson's wife, in a room such as this."

Maria squinted in confusion at such a statement, but her brother agreed, noting: "Without the view of the front road, you will be far less distracted, wouldn't you agree, Mr. Collins?"

"Why yes- Dearest Maria, I think your friend and brother quite prudent; how lucky we are. Certainly, Lady Catherine de Bourgh shall be so pleased with their judgment and manners."

Later, Elizabeth was content to enlighten Maria to the benefits of such a small room. "Why, Maria, Mr. Collins will remain in the front sitting room, and you will be able to make this place your place, your sanctuary. We must decorate it in a way to most please _you._ If I remember correctly, you were always fond of blue?" That evening was spent in happy discussion about Hertfordshire and simple ways to refresh her new sitting room, while convincing her husband that Maria's tastes were certain to reflect their noble patroness', with a healthy dose of humility, as required.

—-

And so three days were spent in a similar fashion. When Mr. Collins had shown them his modest garden the following day, Lizzy had positioned the conversation in such a way that Maria was praising her husband for his diligence to the land, and somehow convincing him that he should expand its borders.

"The good book does say that a parson should be like a gardener. Grow mustard seeds into trees to shelter others. And to sow seeds on good dirt. It would be a proper example for your partitioners, I am certain." Charlie was pleased to influence the man, who was happy to promise to devote more time to the land.

"And you have done so well so far; I am certain you will continue to exceed," Mrs. Lucas cooed.

Maria was keen to share with her mother and Elizabeth the duties she enjoyed to keep house, while she was also pleased to indulge in some gossip and story-telling, reminiscing on old times when her responsibilities were not quite so firm.

"Yet, even with these challenges, I do not regret my decision," Maria indulged in Lizzy. She colored, considering what her dear friend might think of her. "Not that it has anything to do with Longbourn - no Lizzy, please do not think that. Oh, my words just came out all wrong! I am pleased at my independence, even if I have not mastered it all yet!"

Elizabeth assured Maria she was not offended, but was still suspicious of such a match. Yet, she regulated these thoughts, and kept them wholly to herself; not even Charlie was brought into her confidences, though me might have guessed her skepticism.

After they fell into an easy rhythm, their schedule would change, as they were invited to dine at Rosings. Mrs. Lucas was quite pleased with her daughter's conquest, and was quite honored to finally meet such an auspicious connection. Charlie and Elizabeth were both far less pleased with the visit.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh was somehow even more _attentive_ than Mr. Collins had professed. Elizabeth did not believe it possible, yet the lady surpassed their expectations, high as they were. Elizabeth could not help but remember that Mr. Darcy was related to this pompous woman. Lizzy found the entire comparison quite diverting.

The similarities between the pair were obvious; Lady Catherine had dreadfully conceited and selfish manners. Her _superior_ opinion was not to be questioned. It seemed arrogance was a family trait. Yet their haughtiness manifested in vastly different fashions. Whereas Mr. Darcy would not deign to state a thought, Lady Catherine was incapable of silence. Her condescension, as Mr. and Mrs. Collins had boasted (or whimpered), knew no bounds.

Each visitor had their turn to enjoy or endure her ladyship's attention. Mr. Lucas was questioned about his fortune, investments and occupation, Mrs. Lucas interviewed on the suitability of Lucas Lodge for a family such as theirs, and Miss Bennet quizzed about her family, five daughters, and outrageous lack of masters. But Elizabeth spryly countered each ill-mannered, almost brazen question with her own impertinent response.

Maria observed studiously, though she knew she could never been as quick or clever as Lizzy. Yet, she did consider how she might address such forward topics, and noted where she was meek, Lizzy was brave, yet polite. She was resolved on mimicking that which she could.

—-

Elizabeth was most pleased to be of use. Already those little changes, which had been taken up by Maria and Mr. Collins, had brought such a flourish of peace and comfort to the home and mistress. To have a place wholey her own was most gratifying to Maria; _this_ was what she looked forward to in marriage- the ability to find some independence. And even if it were only this small sitting room, Elizabeth and Charlie were certain that the transformation in Mrs. Collins' ease and abilities had begun.

Likewise, when he wasn't visiting Lady Catherine, Mr. Collins took to his garden with the greatest of diligence. As a result, he often ended his days happy and spent from the creation of some new bed or weeding of some old one. The entire party noted how excellent such a hobby was for one's health. This simple praise, voiced by Maria herself, brought a smug smile to her husband's lips. Mrs. Lucas appeared quite pleased with her daughter.

So, it went that as their first week wore on, Maria was able to spend a greater amount of time to herself or her Hertfordshire family. Her confidence grew, so much so, that she told her husband that she would not travel to visit Lady Catherine one morning, as she was needed at the household. "Lady Catherine has graced us with her excellent recommendations- I now must have time to achieve these changes. Certainly, she will understand." Mr. Collins was uncertain and frowned. Elizabeth rallied: "Oh, Mr. Collins, Maria was just sharing with me how pleased she was, how impressed she was at your honorable relationship with your patroness. You are essential to Lady Catherine, I am sure. And with such influence, we are sure you shall effortlessly assure her of Maria's enthusiasm to adhere to that illustrious woman's exceptional knowledge."

Mr. Collins was again quite taken with such gratifying words, and from his cousin, no less. "Mrs. Collins, do not worry one moment- you are both right, Lady Catherine will be ever so satisfied to hear of your genuine conviction to complete your duties." With a quick kiss on her hand, he bid his wife farewell, and was bounding off for that great house.

"Marvelous." Mr. Lucas smiled.

—-

A few days before Easter, the party from Hertfordshire (or at least Miss Bennet) was amazed to discover that two nephews of Lady Catherine were due to arrive to celebrate the occasion. Elizabeth fretted for some time, desperate to hope that the De Bourg family was large enough to mean these men might be _new_ acquaintances. Yet, she felt destined, or cursed, be thrust upon his company once more. Charlie was bemused by Lizzy's distress, and did not allow her to escape his knowing grin and sly prodding. This greatly exacerbated her foul mood, until even Maria was asking after her health.

"No, no - Mrs. Collins;" Elizabeth huffed one morning. "I am quite alright."

"Are you certain?" She asked hesitantly.

"Yes. I simply require some exercise. I think I shall explore another patch of wood this morning. By and by, I will return soon; thank you Maria." And before she could oppose it, Elizabeth had disappeared from the dining room.

The morning was crisp, and the plants were ready to pop. Leaves on the trees were bright green and just coming into their own. It was that lovely point of spring where Mother Nature was stretching out and shaking away all the gloom of winter. Bluebells, preparing to share their delicate color, littered her woodland path. The fresh air calmed Elizabeth's mind, and after a solid hour, she had left her anxiety some strides behind.

But, her peace was fleeting. The sound of Mr. Collin's heavy breathing and even heavier steps broke the harmony of Elizabeth's ramble. "Miss Elizabeth!" He called, wide eyed. "What are you doing out here? You should be at home - oh bother, bother, I haven't the time to impress upon you... Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam are on their way! Make haste home, Miss Bennet- Make haste!"

In a fury of black and plodding, he darted on, back toward the parsonage. Elizabeth exchanged a groan for a sigh, and followed her host back to the confines of a sitting room. Elizabeth, did indeed, make haste, for she feared meeting both those men on the path home. She felt her stomach roil and her mind fog, all too familiar sentiments. Her _strong_ opinions still agitated and annoyed.

Thus, Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam found a picturesque scene of the ladies and a gentleman enjoying some tea. Mr. Collins was adamant on leading their way into his abode, pushing away the poor maid, and quickly pointed out all those intelligent and delightful adjustments propagated by their esteemed aunt. Colonel Fitzwilliam entered the room, failing to contain a wry grin. Mr. Darcy did not even try to disguise his disgust and abhorrence of the environment. Lizzy wondered aloud, whispering to Charlie, "With such distasteful sentiments, I cannot understand why he bothered himself to visit."

"You cannot be certain," Mr. Lucas smirked back, smartly noting: "that might be an improvement upon his prior expression, with his aunt."

Elizabeth stifled a burst of laughter as Mr. Collins austerely introduced his family and guests to his illustrious callers. Wobbling as she stood, so wracked with amusement, Lizzy struggled through the pleasantries, which Mr. Collins obviously disliked. Yet his mien was less despondent than a certain guest.

Colonel Fitzwilliam jovially strode toward Elizabeth, grasped her hand, and swiftly stole a gallant kiss, while exclaiming: "Miss Bennet! What a charming twist of fate this is! When my aunt spoke of some amusing visitors at the parsonage _Darcy_ and I were curious at first, and then simply shocked to hear your names! At first, I thought Darcy a devilish joker, after meeting you so briefly in the park that day. Yet, my cousin is _not_ an able actor, so the surprise on his face rendered his statements true: We had no idea we would be graced with your company again. I am _most_ looking forward to it."

Elizabeth was taken aback by such a glowing hello, and her eyes darted from one friendly face to another stoic countenance, which had softened some in the moments since they arrived. "Well, you were as shocked as I then! Mr. Darcy," she nodded to his, "I am as startl, as dazzled as you. How is it we did not know we would be traveling to the same county? Oh, I know," she cheekily turned to the Colonel. "Mr. Darcy is the sort of gentleman who keeps much to himself. Even at a ball, where light conversation, such as travel plans, is appropriate, Mr. Darcy's ostentatious tastes forbids him to share such person plans."

"Come now, Miss Lizzy," Charlie chastised her, looking smartly to Mr. Darcy. "I believe you and that gentleman shared some pleasant conversation that night."

"Oh yes, that is right. The state of the sheep flocks at Hertfordshire is exceedingly appropriate for such an evening."

Mr. Darcy looked on with an almost helpless glare, as his cousin proceeded to spend the rest of the afternoon tea teasing him. Elizabeth convinced herself she wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
